Harry Potter - The Spider-Man Burglar
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: After discovering one day he could stick to walls, Harry Potter's entire life changes before he takes matters into his own hands. Swiftly becoming a professional burglar who lost whatever innocence he has left, Lord Voldemort may have met his match. - A collection of short stories of the Spider-Man burglar. Rated M for violence and sex.
1. Chapter 1 Sticking to the Walls

Foreword - Not so long ago I came up with the experiment to see if I could write a separate foreword so I can just say I don't own something, but it didn't work.

Anyway, I was inspired to write this particular story when I read up on a burglar in Australia who scaled walls like Spider-Man, only in this case it was more magical. There is no crossover with Spider-Man; I borrowed the name, yes, but that IS IT. I don't want to repeat myself if people continually send me stupid reviews asking when he is going to change his name to Peter Parker and all that. It won't happen.

Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter.

The Spider-Man Burglar.

Lifting up the mirror, Harry sighed when he saw that Pier's was not chasing him anymore. _Oh, come on, Dudley. How many times are you going to do this before you get the hint that it won't work anymore? _he thought in exasperation as he continued to run. He hoped he could find a place to rest, preferably somewhere _**a very long way **_from the gang.

But his body knew from long experience it wasn't going to catch a break, and the injuries he had suffered from his last beating groaned at the thought of another.

Once Harry Potter had watched a nature documentary about chimpanzees, and he had watched as the apes had come up with a hunting strategy designed to catch Red colobus monkeys and snatch them out of their tree after chasing them into an ambush where they would not be able to escape before the chimps tore them to bloodied pieces.

Harry knew how the monkeys felt. except the primates following _him _were a small fraction as intelligent. Dudley and his gang rarely if ever came up with anything new; oh, once or twice they developed a strategy that would take him by surprise, like that time when Malcolm had appeared right in front of him when he'd been running down a street from another road. Later, after he had licked his wounds, Harry had worked out for himself that Malcolm had split up from the other members of the gang, and had run down different streets to get ahead of him. That time Harry had been beaten and pummelled really badly, but he had learnt from the beating so now Harry had developed two tactics so they wouldn't get him another time.

The first tactic was to simply hold up a very small mirror, and after careful practice and patience, he was soon able to get the angle right so he could keep track of the gang as they chased him to see for himself if they were behind him or not.

The second tactic was to simply go down random streets so if any of the gang did split up, he would change direction and turn down different streets at random so then the gang wouldn't catch up with him.

But the most ludicrous thing was Dudley and the others were still trying out the trick. When it was going to occur to them that he had thought out two ways of fooling them? Knowing them they wouldn't work it out until they were much older.

Harry panted as he ran through the streets, the sounds of Dudley and his gang of primates quite a long way behind him. He had named them primates because in effect that was what they were, and as he ran down different side streets and back alleys, completely far away from the nearby streets Piers the moron was probably using to try to get ahead of the game.

Harry lifted the mirror up again as he continued jogging and he spared a short glance at it, noting with a degree of pleasure the sight of his obese pig of a cousin. Dudley was red in the face, and judging from how he was having problems running, he was becoming more exhausted, though it was interesting that Dudley hadn't collapsed, though Harry hoped it happened soon; hopefully, the pig would have a heart attack and die. But those thoughts were fleeting before he groaned again. This time _Gordon _had broken away from the gang.

This time it was going to be Gordon, who happened to be one of the best runners of the gang, who was going to get ahead of him and grab hold of him and beat him up.

No. He wasn't going to let that happen. He turned right and ran into the road, glancing in both directions - he wanted to outrun a pack of primates, he didn't want to die by being run over or smashed to the ground by a car - and then he ran to the other side of the road when he saw that a car was coming from the opposite direction. He used the car to buy himself a good few minutes, and then he started running again, hoping to put distance between himself and Gordon before the rest of the gang managed to catch up to him.

_I can't take much more of this, _Harry thought to himself tiredly as he rounded another bend as he tried to do another lengthy zig-zag as he tried to put some distance between himself and the gang again. _I need a rest. Why does Dudley need to do this every week? Doesn't he ever get bored? _

"We're gonna catch you, Freak!" he heard Dudley holler though he sounded breathless from his running, and Harry swallowed his exhaustion and he kept running while he hoped to find a place to hide until the gang had left, and he turned a corner and ran down a few more streets before he leaned against a wall to catch a breath, and his eyes caught sight of a drainpipe.

_I wish I could climb something like that, _he thought to himself as he looked up, panting while he leaned against the wall. Dudley and his pals were too big and too stupid to know how to climb up a drainpipe. Harry could see the advantages of climbing such a pipe; not only could he climb like Spider-Man from the comics, but he would hopefully be out of sight of the gang and out of their reach.

Harry looked around for any sign of the gang yet, but he couldn't see any of them yet but he knew it was not a good idea to stay down here where the gang could find him and pulled away from the wall.

Or at least he tried to pull away.

Harry gaped in shock when he saw that his hand was _**sticking to the wall. **__What? _Had someone put something on the wall, some kind of glue? But that made no sense, if there was glue on this wall which was made from brickwork, then why couldn't he smell anything, never mind _**feel **_anything that felt like glue?

He wanted to pull his hand away quickly before the gang turned up, and it did. It came away without any problems, just like that. Harry looked at his hands in befuddlement as he tried to work out what was happening. It was so weird, and then he remembered all the other weird things that seemed to happen around him. Harry turned around to see if any of the gang had found him yet, but there wasn't anyone here. But there was no one at the moment. He had the place to himself.

Harry looked down at his hands and tried to work out if he could stick to the wall again. He tried it as an experiment, but it didn't work. He placed his hands to the wall as he had done before, but it came away normally without sticking to it. For a moment Harry was convinced what had happened was some fluke, and yet the part of him which was forever curious about the weird events that took place around him wanted to continue to try to see if this was a fluke.

He had to admit to himself that a lot of weird events happened around him, and this was no different. For a long time he had often wondered what was happening to him, and asked himself if that propaganda the Dursleys were always coming out with about him being a good-for-nothing freak were right, even if he hated them for everything they had done to him over the years, and yet that didn't answer one very good question. Why were these weird things always happening around him?

As he stared at the wall in front of him, Harry thought to himself how great it would be if he could climb walls, like Spider-Man. If it worked he could escape from Dudley whenever possible without the gang knowing a thing. He stared at his hands, remembering the incident clearly whenever something occurred to him. _Wait a second, _he thought to himself in growing excitement, _my hand came away within moments of wanting it pulled away. What if I try it again-?_

"Hey, here he is!" Harry turned in horror and he started running when he heard the voice of Gordon, and he took off, but blocking the alley, grinning crookedly was Piers, but Harry grabbed hold of a black bag on top of a bin. He picked it up. The bag wasn't that heavy, but it wasn't light either and it was no problem for Harry. It should do what he needed. Good.

"What're yer goin' with that, Potter?" Piers guffawed. "Taking it home to eat out of?" He laughed like it was a huge joke, but he wasn't laughing anymore when Harry smacked him in the face and head with it, and he was knocked to the side of the alley, leaving him stunned, but Harry used the chance to escape.

As he ran down the street, Harry cursed himself for being so stupid to remain in the alley when it was not a good move. He should have kept moving, put more distance between himself and the gang-

Harry sighed to himself as he jogged, glancing behind him with the mirror. There was no sign of the gang behind him, but he started zig-zagging through the streets to be on the safe side.

* * *

As he lay in the darkness in the cramped confines of the cupboard under the stairs, Harry thought about the day he'd had. He had managed to avoid Dudley, but his cousin had promised that he would pay for what he had done, running away from them like that. Harry knew his cousin was not making an idle threat. He would try to carry out the threat, and Harry knew there was a chance his cousin would succeed. Dudley had always been out of shape because he always ate fatty, sugary, processed foods all the time without his parents doing anything to mitigate the worst of it. On the contrary, they had encouraged him to eat though sure it had occurred to them, a simple synaptic firework here and there in their brains, that they should perhaps curtail their son's eating habits. But it never happened. Worse, whenever Dudley came back after a long run of Harry Hunting, he was usually sweating and panting, sucking the air noisily in wheezing, gasping breaths as he tried to relax although his morbidly obese frame was simply not used to the strain of exercise. Today had been no exception, and he had been gasping, sucking every particle of air out of the sky when he had come back to the house, red in the face and sweating like the pig he was.

The obese pig had been running all afternoon and the exercise had nearly made him collapse. Harry briefly wondered how long someone could go like that before they collapsed if their body was disgustingly out of Dudley had seen his cousin in the house again, his piggy-little eyes had narrowed and he had curled his ham-like hands in rage, but he didn't start on his cousin. That fascinated Harry. Clearly his cousin had been more exhausted than he'd thought, but he didn't care. But it wasn't enough for Dudley to look like a pig, he was sweating like one too.

Even his Aunt Petunia had been disgusted. She had been like, "Whatever have you been doing, Diddy-Duddydums? You'd better go and have a shower."

Dudley, too tired and too filthy to resist, had done as he was told, which was an achievement; most of the time Dudley couldn't give a thought about his personal hygiene, and he usually fought his mother every step of the way, but it seemed even he had standards, surprisingly enough. But that hadn't stopped him making a threat. He whispered, "I'm gonna kill you, Freak!" and then he lumbered his way upstairs, shaken by the run and he was left stumbling up the stairs. Harry hadn't said a word. He had known from the off his cousin meant every word he said. Dudley never made idle threats at the best of times. But tonight he hoped his Uncle wasn't told about what happened.

Harry snorted. _Uncle, Aunt, cousin. These three are not my family. In my mind, a real family does not do what these pigs do to me every day, _he thought to himself, _One day I'll get out of here. _

But as he lay there in the darkness of the cupboard which he was able to squeeze himself into, Harry thought of the days' events. Only one thing stood out to him, well, two things. The first was how he had managed to throw that bag of rubbish at Piers' head (another member of Dudley's gang who will definitely try to get revenge, he knew, but so long as the rat-faced idiot didn't catch him then Harry would be safe). He would worry about Piers later, he had his mind on other things. He had never used his surroundings to attack one of the gang before. Yes, he had used his knowledge of the geography of Little Whinging to his advantage, using it to get away from the gang, keeping two steps ahead before he found somewhere to hide for a bit while the gang poked around.

But he had never used his surroundings to attack one of them before. Harry didn't care if he got one of the gang permanently injured, although it would have consequences for him in the future if one of them got hit by a car although he wouldn't be sorry; they had never restrained themselves from hitting him and hunting him down like an animal, so why should he care about hurting them? One thing was for sure, he wanted to use his surroundings to his advantage again. Hopefully, if he refined his approach instead of just using a rubbish bag, he could use bin lids as a shield, kind of like the shields used by medieval knights of legend to block Dudley's punches. Harry chuckled quietly to himself as he pictured Dudley throwing a punch at his face, only to scream in pain as his knuckles impacted those lids made of metal rather than plastic.

But then he thought about how he had stuck to the wall. Yeah, it had only been brief, but he had _**stuck to the wall. **_Harry just didn't know if it was a fluke or not, a figment of a desperate imagination. Harry lifted his hand; he couldn't see it in the darkness of the cupboard, but he could feel it. He could feel the cold of the cupboard tickle the pale skin of his hands, and he wondered if he could do it again. He remembered clearly how he had pulled his hand away with a thought because he had wanted to pull it away, but what if he reversed it?

He decided to try it here. The confines of the Cupboard weren't really a great place to hold such an experiment, but he didn't care. He was on his own, which was a good thing, and with the Dursleys occupied in the living room while they watched television which he could hear from where he was, Harry knew he wouldn't be disturbed unless Vernon decided to have "fun" although Harry wouldn't term it as fun. He sat up slowly, knowing from long experience if he sat up too fast he would bash his forehead on the stairs, and potentially get another scar like the lightning-bolt shaped thing on his head.

He turned on the light and looked at his left hand. He closed his eyes and placed it on the stair above him. He held his hand with his fingers splayed open for a moment, and then he pulled his hand away slowly. It came away. Harry looked down with a sigh. It was a fluke. Disappointment filled him, but he fought it down. He should have known….

And then he remembered how he had willed his hand away from the wall the first time. What if he did it again? Willing his hand to stick to the ceiling, Harry tried it again. He pressed his hand to the wall for a moment. He licked his lips as he pulled his hand. It came away. He sagged in disappointment, and then he rolled over after turning the light off. But he was hit by a brainwave. He had thought about how cool it would be if he could climb.

What if he could?

What if he learnt to scale walls the normal way? Yeah, it would be a challenge, but he would rather take his chances scaling a wall than being a sitting duck on the ground. With that in mind, Harry went to sleep.

* * *

Lunch was usually a small affair, but for Harry Potter, every meal was something he both looked forward to and dreaded. He looked forward to them because he would be able to stop the inevitable hunger he usually endured and dreaded because the food he was given was the equivalent of a crust of bread and a shot of water with a wizened, half-eaten apple given to prisoners.

The Dursleys regularly starved him as a punishment, usually for something Dudley did or because Vernon and Petunia wanted to drag him down to his lowest ebb and die, and they worked him really hard with few breaks to either catch his breath or to get something to drink which did not help. It also made him wonder what truly was normal. He could tell that none of the kids here was in the same hell he was, which made him stand out even more so without his baggy clothes which didn't fit him, his thin, tiny frame, and his messy hair to make it worse. A voice, the result of years of abuse by the Dursleys, told him it was because he was a freak, but he didn't care.

Anyway, Harry was truly hungry. He had been given, once more, the scraps from God knew where, and he was expected to be grateful for them, but he was still hungry.

He looked up from his meagre meal and glared angrily at the kids around him, who were obvious to his rage. They had enough food around them to feed a nation, never mind themselves. Some of them had fruit gleaming in the dim light with a shade of attractive ripeness. Others had biscuits either homemade or store-bought. Some were guzzling down yoghurts. Other kids were swilling down fruit juices or soft drinks. Some kids were eating school-meals, but Harry couldn't see them eating down portions that would starve even a mouse. The sight of it made him angry, but he squashed it tight down.

Getting furious was not going to help him, and he knew it. He closed his eyes and tried to resist the pain of hunger in his stomach. He wanted some of that food, he wanted to be healthy instead of on the point of becoming a skeleton all the time. And then it occurred to him, what if he stole some of their food? For a moment he recoiled at the thought, but the more he thought about it, the more appealing it became to him.

Abandoning his meal - it was disgusting anyway - Harry stood up, his mind racing and started walking around the hall. His mind raced as he thought about how he could do this, and he decided he would be careful. He cast a look around the hall for any sign of Dudley and his cronies. He spotted them quickly enough; they were on the far side of the hall, and as long as he avoided them they wouldn't know what he was doing, and besides, they were laughing raucously at something Harry neither knew or cared about. He looked around the hall and realised there was a chance he would be spotted, so he picked up his lunch box, and he went back got it so no-one would be suspicious.

He targeted a girl who had a lunchbox open to the side, and after a quick and furtive look around, Harry walked over slowly while making sure no-one saw him. He had targeted the girl because the teacher in charge of lunch duty had her back to him, so this was the perfect target. He walked over to her while he saw she was distracted by her pals, and he spotted a milky way in her lunchbox. He flexed his left hand to make it ready, and he dipped his hand into the girl's box and curled his fingers around the wrapper, feeling as though his breathing was out of sorts. But little by little, he eased the packaged chocolate out of the box, wincing inwardly at the sound it made, and then he pulled it out and walked away.

Harry smiled as he walked away without hearing anyone shouting, and he went to the bin and emptied his lunch box. He had done it, he had succeeded in stealing food from someone else. But he knew he was not finished yet. He stood by the bin quietly while he had the lunchbox in his hands and he emptied it.

_That was straight forward enough, _he thought, _but the lunchbox itself is too big, too noticeable. If I'd been there one minute longer, they would have seen me. There has to be another way for me to steal without being spotted…._

And then he noticed something that caught his eye. He looked at the serviettes arranged neatly in a box near the dinner ladies and he grabbed a couple which he took with him, and he walked back to his seat but along the way, he looked around for any likely target. One of the best things about his life was despite everyone seeing him as a freak, he was never really seen or noticed by the others here. Harry took advantage of that right now. With just his eyes to gauge his surroundings, he caught sight of the teacher who was trying to get his cousin and his idiot friends to keep the noise level down. She wasn't having much luck by the look of it. But that was her problem, not his. Harry found his newest victim. A boy, this time, who had a few plums and a couple of apples to the side. Harry walked slowly over to him, thankful for his short frame for once. Deftly switching a serviette into his right hand, Harry came close to him before he had an idea. He walked over to the boy and placed his oversized trainer - yet another hand-me-down from Dudley - and placed his lunch box on the edge of the table. He didn't do it for the fun of it, he put it there deliberately so then he could block the other kids' views of what he was doing.

Unfortunately, he was noticed but luckily not in the way he was dreading.

"Go away, Potter!" one kid said.

"Yeah, we don't want Dudley to see us with you," another kid added.

That was the crux of his problem here. Harry had no friends, but truthfully the black-haired boy had grown accustomed to that since he could remember how he had been hurt the last time he had tried to make some friends, but he pushed those memories aside and carried on with his laces while he silently counted the moments. He didn't bother replying to the demands of the kids; nothing he would say to them would change their views, so he didn't see any point. He finished, but as he stood up he wrapped the serviette around one of the number of plums near him. He wished he could take more, but he knew if he did that then the kid would notice, and he didn't want that.

He walked away from the table quietly, savouring his victory, but he spotted another kid who, much like him, was alone on his part of a table. Harry liked the look of the kid instantly. Not only was he alone, but he had all of his attention in a comic book. Also, as he glanced around, the teacher was still on the far side of the hall, trying to deal with Dudley, and the dinner ladies were now packing up the food stores, chatting with one another to really notice him. A part of Harry wondered if they would even raise the alarm if they saw what he was going, but he decided not to try his luck. He walked slowly over to the boy and noticed that he had some fruit in his own lunch box. There were a couple of apples and bananas in the box and some sandwiches, but there was nothing there he could pinch, aside from a few more plums and some oranges. Harry breathed out slowly and eased himself closer before he performed the same lace-up trick, though he wondered if it was even necessary since the other boy didn't seem to be paying any kind of attention whatsoever to his surroundings. Still, Harry was cautious and he carefully watched the kid, but so far Harry felt he could get away with this.

He stood up, and with the serviette, he managed to curl his fingers around an orange and a plum inside the lunchbox and he held back the urge to grin as he felt the shapes of the two pieces of fruit, and he lifted them out slowly. Once he had them in his own pocket, Harry looked down at the boy, but he didn't see any sign that he had been spotted.

Harry walked away and he went to an empty table and he began eating his spoils. It might have been reckless, but since no-one paid any attention to 'Freaky Harry Potter' he felt he was safe. It would be years later that he would learn enough restraint. But for right now, before he tucked into the two delicious looking plums, the orange, and the packaged Milky Way, Harry knew he had to make sure he hadn't made any mistakes. He knew if the Dursleys found out about what he had just done then they would make his life a misery, though that was a contradiction in itself.

And yet, he had done what anybody else in his position had done. He had gotten food when he had needed it, and although the Dursleys would raise almighty hell if they ever found out about this, he knew he had done it to feed himself. If he hadn't then he would have starved to death.

Even more, he would never forget the indescribable exhilaration he had felt when he had taken those pieces of food from the other kids. For once, he had done what he had needed in order to survive. The thefts had felt as though someone had lit a spark in his brain and let it explode with the force of a bomb.

Harry knew only one thing.

He wanted to do it again.


	2. Chapter 2 Discovery

Please let me know what you think.

My thanks to CenturionAfricanus for letting me borrow an important part in his 'Harry Potter: Trickster Extraordinaire' story.

* * *

The Spider-Man Burglar.

A fortnight later and Harry was in trouble. As he stared at the teacher and the headteacher who was speaking to the Dursleys, Harry felt physically ill. He knew what was going to happen to him.

Vernon was sending him those typical purple-faced angry looks while Petunia was looking at him with her features pinched while her pale eyes were glaring at him. Both Dursley adults were definitely promising to make sure he regretted what he had done. Truthfully the only thing he regretted was he had gotten caught.

And it was all because of that authority loving tell-tale bitch. The Dursleys had luckily eased off of their starvation punishment of him, but as was typical he still wasn't getting enough to eat. Well, enough for a growing boy that was whereas Dudley ate more than enough for the pair of them. Harry had often wondered to himself if the Dursleys were deliberately trying to kill him in that manner, as opposed to what Vernon might want to do, which was to beat him to death; indeed, as the fat pig had proven when he had started breaking bone, Harry had wondered just how much he could actually _take _before his body gave out.

But he was still hungry. As a result, he had to scavenge for food in the lunch hall at school, and he would either hide the food from the rest of the school or smuggle it all into the Cupboard under the Stairs to eat there.

The stolen food did wonders for Harry's health and as long as he didn't leave any visible signs of what he was eating, such as wrappers or fruit peels or cores, he would get away with it; the Dursleys never expended the time to clean the Cupboard out so he had the advantage there, and they didn't particularly care much about him or his hygiene to make him clean the confined space out, but they would definitely notice if there were remnants of stolen food if they opened the door which they did whenever they dragged him out for one of those _punishments_, so he had needed to be careful in case they did suddenly burst in and decide to beat him; the last thing he wanted, in that case, was to give them any further ammunition to beat him even worse, which was precisely what they would do if they noticed crumbs of chocolate or biscuit or peels from fruit.

But how had he reached this position he was in now?

For the last two weeks, Harry had been developing his craft, stealing food from the rest of the kids while trying to stop anybody from taking notice of what he was doing. Or so he had thought though he hadn't known that at the time. While the end results were meagre, for a boy who was trying to eat while his so-called aunt and uncle relentlessly starved him, they were worthwhile.

How was he to know until it was too late someone was watching him quietly from behind the scenes and had waited until the right moment before they had acted?

Harry was still reeling from that, and yet as he thought about it, he felt it made a sort of sense.

The bushy brown haired girl had said that she had been watching him for a while. She had even taken _pictures _for crying out loud with a camera that developed the film but didn't flash, but she hadn't told anybody because she had wanted to one hundred per cent sure.

Harry imagined that what she had said made sense, but it just surprised him so much that the bushy-haired girl would wait for such a long time before she revealed what he had been doing. He couldn't help but wonder if she had noticed what he had been up to since day one and it had gone from there whenever she had noticed him wandering around the lunch hall on a daily basis but she hadn't said, so he didn't know the details.

It was just…._wrong _if he thought it through because he had started to decide to take extra precautions.

The rest of the school were already becoming aware someone was taking their food. Harry had already overheard one or two of the kids commenting that they had thought they had this or they were missing that from their lunch boxes. Truthfully Harry was inwardly kicking himself for making the mistake of doing it constantly instead of once every few days so then no-one would pay any attention.

The school was becoming too hot for him.

He needed to find a way to stop, or at least to ease things back a bit, maybe steal one or two things once or twice a week, stagger them so then no-one would care.

But he had been desperate for food.

He had fallen into a trap, a trap that was truly so easy to fall into and one that he had not realised existed.

He had made the mistake of stealing too often, and the little thefts were starting to become noticed. The good news was he had begun to notice it happening, but it was too late.

He had been caught out. All thanks to a bossy little busy-body who seemed so arrogant she seemed to think she was going to receive a medal for what she had done. A nice little bit of community service.

_The little bitch. _

Harry wondered if her parents would give her a pat on the head for it. He knew what was going to happen would not be fun. Now he knew what he had done wrong, it was going to be a learning experience, and if there was one thing Harry felt he was really good at doing, it was learning from his mistakes.

At least after this meeting, he would have the motivation. That is unless the Dursleys went too far this time. There was no doubt in his mind the Dursleys were going to beat him up, yelling they'd always _known_ he would turn out this way and not see those statements for the stupidly worded pieces of rubbish they were.

It was ironic, really; the Dursleys always said they expected him to be like his parents, two people whom he had never known and truthfully didn't want to since their stupidity had landed him in this dump that was Little Whinging, two criminals or layabouts whatever you wanted to refer to them as, but instead of treating him right and making sure he had lots to eat, they pushed him down that path. Personally, Harry didn't really care. He also had to admit it was his own fault for becoming so taken by the power a few simple thefts had given him even if he knew it would have led him to this one way or another.

But he wasn't sorry for it.

Why should he be sorry?

Harry didn't particularly feel any guilt for what he had done. Anyone who was in his position wouldn't either. Harry had often seen those people begging on the streets - scroungers Vernon referred to them as, loudly and openly in public while he looked down with open contempt at the people who were begging, people who just wanted food or something hot to drink to get them through a cold night.

Harry knew how they felt. Granted, while he felt there were better ways to make a living and survive on the streets rather than hope every day for someone compassionate to hand them a few quid, he knew how they felt.

Ever since the night, he had been dumped on the doorstep in the middle of a cold night - oh yes, he knew he had just been dumped on the Dursley's doorstep since his _relatives _never stopped reminding him - Harry had felt that he had been begging all the time.

He was trying to survive and if he had to steal to do it, then so what? But in the headteacher's office, looking at the arguing adults and listening to them yelling all the time which made him want nothing more than to scream for silence since yelling never really solved a problem in the long run, did it, Harry knew he was going to suffer. And there was nothing he could do about it.

There was no escape for him.

While the adults shouted, Harry thought back to the fateful moment he had been caught out…

* * *

He had just lifted out a small milky way out of another lunch box - that and the Mars bar he had taken earlier should definitely see him through both in terms of chocolate and in sugar intake - and he had gone on his way to dumping them in the lunchbox he had.

Mentally Harry sorted through what he had just pinched. He had two chocolate bars, a few grapes, an orange. That should be enough for now, though truthfully he was already starting to become worried. He had been hearing more than once for the last few days some of the other students complaining about either their food going missing or they were positive their lunch box contained a few more bits.

Either way, it was looking bad since the teachers and the parents, if they had been informed though he hadn't heard anything just yet, would likely reach the same logical conclusion and say there was a thief in the school.

Harry knew he should have stopped there but he couldn't help but go on as he went over to a bin and happily dropped the muck his aunt had provided for him for lunch. He cast another look around, thankful for the position by the bin gave him the perfect vantage point where he could see around the hall. From where he was standing, he could see so many choices. What made it laughable, he realised, was no-one seemed to be truly vigilant about their food.

A paranoid part of his mind wondered if they were deliberately acting that way so then they could trap him. As he cast his eyes about the hall, Harry spotted a victim. A girl sitting at the edge of a table, chatting with her friends. What made her so attractive to him was she not only had her back to where Harry was standing but on the table near her were a few pieces of fruit. From what he could see of her Harry judged her to be a popular girl, judging by how much she was laughing with the others.

Harry walked slowly over to her making sure that he appeared casual though his eyes sought out the nearest teacher. Dudley was once more causing a raucous on the other side of the hall, and the teacher had gone over to once more try to shut them up.

Harry felt like laughing at the irony of it though he didn't. For a boy who loved getting him into trouble, who enjoyed seeing him bleeding and whimpering in a heap on the ground, Dudley was just _so useful._

Walking over to the girls while making sure they didn't pay him any attention, reading the manner of the other students as he did, he made a beeline for the girl's fruit. As he walked over to the table he snagged a small apple and a plum and once he had the two pieces of fruit in his hand he slowly pushed them into the pocket of his trousers before he walked back to his table.

He had decided to just eat the food silently without anyone taking any notice of him, but when he got there and sat down he reached into his pocket and brought out the plum and the apple.

He had just rubbed both pieces of fruit on his sleeves when he heard footsteps closing in behind him. He looked up, expecting Dudley though his obese pig of a cousin never went anywhere without his lackeys. The sight of who was approaching him made his eyes widen with horror when he saw it was the teacher who was meant to be monitoring the whole lunch hall. Her expression was thunderous and neutral all rolled into one. There was only one reason she was coming over to him, she knew.

Harry's eyes travelled to the girl who was following behind her, walking with a stride which was both a strut and a bouncing skip while she wore a superior expression on her features. She had a head full of tangled bushy brown hair with brown eyes. Harry hated her instantly. He knew she was responsible for this mess.

"What is this?" the teacher demanded, her voice loud enough to be heard and Harry winced when he saw the reactions from the rest of the hall and the photos held in the teachers hand, though truthfully he didn't care what the others in the hall were thinking; he was more interested in the photos clutched tightly in the teachers' hand.

His eyes widened in shock when he saw the photos which she displayed like a poker player showing his hand. He only needed to see only one photo of him clearly sneaking an apple off a table to know what he was looking at while the others were just as damning.

"I asked you what is this?" the teacher repeated, louder this time.

Harry sent the teacher a malevolent look, and he glared at the girl furiously while he memorised every inch of her face while taking note of her buckteeth which was likely to make her the target of bullies and her haughty superior attitude. "It's food," Harry replied.

"Food you have stolen," the teacher pointed out, "am I right?"

Harry sneered at the teacher. He didn't bother dignifying the question with an answer. He knew it was rhetorical.

The girl, who up to now had been silent and standing with a smug expression on her face, spoke up. "The teacher asked you a question. That means you should reply to it," she said self importantly.

Harry glared at the girl again. She was starting to get on his nerves. Her voice alone was grating enough, but her manner made him wish there was a pair of scissors, real scissors not those blunt things used in art lessons so then he could cut her throat.

_And I thought Dudley was obnoxious. _

The sudden thought about how this girl could give Dudley a run for his money when it came to being obnoxious made Harry wince, and he knew without looking that Dudley was probably watching and loving every single second of this mess once he had figured out what was going on.

If so then Dudley was probably rubbing his metaphorical hands with glee at the thought of telling daddy and mummy dearest about what had happened today since he knew what would likely happen.

And even if he wasn't watching then the teachers would be the ones informing the Dursleys, so either way thanks to this bushy-haired bitch he was going to get a beating he was not going to forget any time soon.

The teacher seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry when it came to the girl. "I already know he has stolen food, thank you, Miss Granger," the teacher told the now embarrassed girl who was now looking at her with a betrayed look on her face at how the teacher had just spoken to her.

Harry knew what this girl was the moment he had laid eyes on her - a girl who was notoriously unpopular and loved burying herself in authority because she had absolutely nothing else in her life. In the case of the school, the authority figures were the teachers - the moment she had seen him steal pieces of food off of the other students, she had jumped at the chance to get evidence. The fact she had that camera showed her family was decently well-off, but the fact she had taken photographs of him stealing told Harry two things.

Firstly, she had seen he was committing thefts but feared no-one would believe her without proof. Secondly, she had taken those photographs so then she could prove to the teachers who had been taking the food all along, though really Harry didn't understand the point since she could have done this shortly after he had started taking food off of the tables.

She hadn't needed to wait this long, surely.

But the teacher didn't seem to be caring about that at the moment. In fact, she was more focused on the girl's obnoxious attitude and what Harry should and should not be doing at this point.

* * *

_Granger…._Harry would certainly remember the name while he sat at the back of the Dursley's car. _If I never see that arrogant bitch ever again, it will be too soon. _

He was extremely tense as the car drove closer and closer to Number 4. All the time he had to avoid looking at the leering Dudley who was sitting next to him, and the angry glowers he was getting from Vernon, as well as the angrily hissed whispers he could hear from Aunt Petunia who was going on and on about the neighbours and what they would think when they heard the news about what had happened.

He had just been expelled from the school, something he had not expected from the teachers, but since the headteacher was one of those people who believed in every single nasty thing the Dursleys had said about him over the years though how she had reached that wonderful conclusion, he didn't know and frankly did not care.

He also didn't care about the neighbours, he never had. He had always hated the neighbours on Privet Drive, with their attitudes and the way they looked at him whenever they saw him. He hated how blind they were to what he was going through, judging him on how he _looked _and all the garbage about his parents.

But he knew he would be receiving an eardrum on the point of being burst for a while because of the gossip. There was no way this could be hidden and as the car drew closer to Privet Drive, Harry looked at the rapidly approaching house with fear. There were too many parents who would probably find out from their children what he had done, and soon it would be all over Little Whinging.

But as the house came nearer and nearer, he wondered if he would ever come out of it again alive. He knew precisely what was going to happen the minute he was inside the door and out of sight of the rest of the street.


	3. Chapter 3 New School

The Spider-Man Burglar.

"These were very hard to get," Harry was saying as he pushed forward the small collection of little toys in front of him, making the three slightly older boys look down at them curiously before they looked back up at him.

"Why?" one of them asked.

"My cousin has this problem. If he doesn't get what he wants, or some other stupid thing, he has a temper tantrum and throws it around. I've also got these," Harry went on, moving on from speaking about Dudley while he slipped out four Batman comics out of his schoolbag. One by one, with a flourish, he placed them on the small cardboard box which had been fashioned into a crude table ideal for his business.

"All of them in good condition," Harry said, his eyes flicking from one boy to the next. "What do you think, worth anything?"

The boys looked at the toys and the comics and they pulled out some cash from their pockets. Harry watched them carefully before he took their cash out of their hands, mentally counting it quickly before a teacher turned up and tried to find out what was going on.

"Good doing business with you," Harry said to them shortly. He had learnt very gradually that most of the kids he did this sort of thing with preferred being quick. He had no problem with that since he didn't want to get into trouble with the teachers, who had it out for him given how he had arrived here in the first place.

One of the boys was looking at him funnily. "You know, we've been doing business with you for the last few months, and we've heard things about you."

"Oh?" Harry's voice was curious although there was a sliver of danger entering into his tone. "Like what?" he asked.

"We heard you were stealing food from your last school, and now you're here," the boy went on, blissfully unaware of how Harry was taking that.

"Yeah," one boy interrupted, "my parents said I shouldn't speak to you."

Harry lifted a brow. "Oh, but you like doing business with me."

The boy flushed.

Harry studied him closely, wondering if the idiot would tell his parents about what was going on. He hoped not, but if he did then there would be nothing he could do about it.

A smirk crossed Harry's face as he tried to act casual. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Harry went on conversationally, relaxing slightly; there were so many things going on about him that he had long since stopped caring.

He had only been worried something else had been talked about him, though what it could be he didn't know since there were so many rumours circulating around it was hard to tell fact from fiction, but that was life in Privet Drive for you.

"You're saying it's not true?"

"No. Everything you've heard about me is true. I did steal food from the classmates at my old school," Harry said, not concerned about what was being put out about him; in a way it was good to have a bit of notoriety to go with his reputation, and since Dudley hadn't moved with him to this new dump, he wasn't concerned about what the school thought about him.

But still…

Harry stood up and walked away, hoping to avoid this conversation; while he genuinely did not give a damn about what the Dursleys, the school, or the students thought about him, Harry didn't like giving them too much. "Good doing business with you," he called over his shoulder. "I hope to do it again soon."

* * *

Aunt Petunia's pinched face looked even more pinched while she looked through Harry's schoolbag and his lunchbox, but all she found was nothing, though he was relieved that he had already sold off everything he had stolen out of Dudley's room - second bedroom, that is. Harry watched her silently, knowing she wanted him to make some smart-aleck remark so then Vernon would need an excuse to beat him up again, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.

The Dursleys had been like this for the best part of a year now. Ever since that little _bitch _Granger grassed him up, all of his days were spent waking up with a yell from Petunia, threatened by Vernon, and spending the day at school and then coming back to the House of Horror where his bag and his lunchbox would be searched.

"Get out of my sight!" Petunia snapped at him; Harry was only too happy to leave, and as he slipped into the cupboard under the stairs and he slipped off the clothes he had on and put on Dudley's cast-offs. Harry hated the oversized clothes with a passion, and he swore when he got out of here, he would burn the clothes and watch them go up in flames.

As he got changed, he had time to think.

When Granger grassed him up, life at the Dursleys had been unpleasant, though much of it came from the neighbours' outcry. Harry had been right - the neighbours would have eventually found out what had happened at the school, beyond his relatives' control. Truthfully he wasn't sure what the Dursleys expected. They had shoved him in the cupboard after the second beating after a few of the bastards had gossiped about it, and he had been forced to recover for a couple of weeks, though Petunia had forced her husband to carry on beating him which only slowed his recovery.

The reason?

The neighbours had heard from their kids' friends or their children - whatever the combination was - and they had begun talking. If there was one thing Petunia _hated _with a passion, it was neighbours gossiping about her.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to exorcise (not literally - he remembered the last time the Dursleys had tried exorcism on him, for his freakishness; he honestly did not understand why the Dursleys kept on about that, but truthfully at this point, he didn't care although he knew there was something about him that made no sense, but he absolutely _despised _the term exorcism) what happened next out of his mind, he still remembered the pain even now.

But seriously… what did the Dursleys expect? There was only so much they could control, surely it had occurred to them the other kids would have talked?

Harry shrugged. It wasn't his problem. In any case, Aunt Petunia shouldn't stick her abnormally large nose into other people's business and gossip all the time, and besides what did have to do with them? The neighbours around him meant nothing to him. He hated them, hated everything about them. He despised them and their mundane, worthless lives. They were the _Dursleys' _neighbours, not his.

In any case, what gave them the right to look down on him? Why did they ignore the pain he was in? They took one look at his appearance, judging him before they even knew him, so why should he care about proving them right? In any case, he had been trying to survive when he had stolen that food. He wasn't hurting anyone, was he?

That had been about a year ago now.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his head against the support of the stairs. When the Dursleys had found out what he was doing, courtesy of Hermione Granger, he had gotten a terrible beating. This time both Vernon and Dudley took part. Vernon told Dudley it was a "father and son bonding moment," and he had made a joke saying it was a pity they couldn't have had Harry's own father there so then they could beat both Potters.

When he had heard that, Harry had felt hatred surge through him.

Hatred for his own father, a bastard whom he had never even met for dropping him into this hell with the Dursleys, and hatred for the Dursleys and all members of the family. After the Dursleys had finished with him - for now - Harry had spent the next two weeks trying to recover, but it wasn't helped because the Dursleys still expected him to do everything.

When the neighbours began to talk, well the Dursleys had beaten him even more. The damage was done. There was nothing the Dursleys could do about it, and Harry had a feeling they knew about it but they were simply beating him up for the sake of it.

In the meantime the Dursleys had problems.

Changing schools. Harry had been expelled from the school where he'd stolen the food from. The Dursleys had to send him to a new school, one that was considered to be shit, in Vernon's own words. The Dursleys had spent the best part of a week searching for schools "suitable for a criminal" and they had deemed the current school he was in as perfect since it was smaller than the one Harry had attended with Dudley; Harry didn't know what criteria the Dursleys had been looking for in the school, and truthfully he hadn't cared much either.

One of the first things the teachers had done as soon as he had sat down was to lecture him, saying they would not tolerate theft of any kind. Harry had only stared at them emotionlessly, knowing that if there was even one _pencil sharpener _missing, he would be the first person to blame. They had been watching him like a hawk hunting for a rabbit, always ready to swoop down and snag him. They were keeping watch for any activity from him, any stolen items, any complaints about any stolen food. They were wound up so tightly Harry was amazed they didn't snap.

But they needn't have worried.

If they thought he was going to commit another theft so soon, so clumsily like he had done before, they were in for a very long wait. He had no intention of stealing food from anyone. Not now. He acknowledged his earlier mistakes, he had been so stupid to pinch food too frequently, and it had landed him in hell. He had no intention of going down that route again, he didn't need anymore Hermione Grangers grassing him up.

He wasn't going to steal from the school anymore.

Not now.

He had a better source of income. His cousin was a pig, and his main bedroom resembled something you'd see only in a landfill site, while the second bedroom he had with all the junk he had accumulated over the years was so full the Dursleys would never be able to tell if anything was missing since Dudley only paid a small amount of attention to a single item for a short amount of time.

As he settled down on the cot and shifted a little bit on the uncomfortable bed, Harry had to admit the new place wasn't so bad. Every cloud had a silver lining, as they said.

The Dursleys had sent him to this new place on his own, which meant he didn't have to brave Dudley or his gang of neanderthals. That didn't mean they couldn't have a go at catching him whenever the weekends came around. The Dursleys had refused to send their son anywhere near this school, believing it to be a _lower class-dump _and so he stayed where he was. Dudley, proving he was not so incredibly stupid, had realised what was going on. Dudley may love making his cousin's life a hell, but he didn't want to leave his gang although it never occurred to the fat bastard they might still hang out with each other. It didn't help Dudley went on and on and threw tantrums saying he didn't want to go anywhere near such a place. He needn't have worried.

Harry waited in the cupboard for three hours until the Dursleys went to bed. When he was positive they were asleep, Harry sat up and turned on the light and he looked at the small stash of cash he'd collected for the day and he looked it over for a minute before he placed it under the mattress. He wasn't worried about the Dursleys finding it; they never expended the time to look into his living space, and even if they tried to search the cupboard they wouldn't find the cash he had. He had other hiding spaces.

* * *

The bell rang and the teacher, Miss Ross looked up irritably at first. She was one of those teachers who would have preferred to have her pupils in her class for longer, but fortunately for the class that was not possible.

Harry gladly stood up and packed his things quietly before he silently walked towards the door. He had been stared at again by the teacher, and they were starting to creep him out.

"Wait a moment, Mr Potter," Miss Ross' voice cracked like a shotgun shell shattering glass. Her voice went through Harry with the same effect, and his brain felt like the glass while his eardrums were shattered shards.

Harry stopped and looked at the teacher.

"Come over here, please," he said.

Harry walked over silently and stood in front of the teacher's desk.

Miss Ross stared at him silently with an expression Harry recognised as contempt.

"What can I do for you, Miss Ross?" Harry asked, tired of the game.

Miss Ross blinked in surprise, but she recovered quickly. "I have said nothing for the past year," she announced, "I've been content with my other colleagues doing it for me. But I have been watching you for a while."

Harry lifted an eyebrow, wondering where this was going but he kept silent.

"I know what everyone has been saying about you," the teacher went on, "so I know about you…"

Harry couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Is something funny?" Miss Ross' expression became pinched. She almost resembled Petunia and he wondered if they were distant cousins.

"Yeah, you _don't _know anything about me," Harry whispered, but his voice was loud enough to be heard in the otherwise silent classroom. "None of you do. You only pay attention to what you want to listen to."

He knew it was a bad idea to say that, especially if it went to the Dursleys.

But he didn't care.

He had just about had enough of people gossiping about him and making unfair assumptions although many of them were true. But he wished they would just get lives and ignore him as if they'd never even met.

Miss Ross leaned forward, staring at him with a dislike that said she only disliked him based on what she had heard, and not with any real experience of him, ignoring everything the young boy had just said though Harry wasn't bothered since he'd had the same thing all of his life. "I'm still watching you. Now get out."

Although he was worried about what she had just said before she dismissed him, Harry just walked away, only too happy to leave. Truth be told he had already noticed the woman following him around the quad outside, but he had always made sure none of the teachers were in the line of sight of wherever he made his sales. And he never used the same place twice in a row. For a moment Harry wondered if the woman was getting any information from one of his customers.

He closed his eyes irritably and fought the urge to punch the wall as he walked out of the classroom and into the corridor so he could head out into the quad, his mind racing as he tried to work out if the teacher was deliberately laying down some sort of trap for him to fall into and was warning him so then he would follow a specific path so by the time the teacher was ready, there would be no way out for him.

Harry blew out a breath as he walked out into the quad and went to a fairly deserted corner and took out a library book he'd checked out. He wished he could take them away from the school, but the Dursleys really did not like books or anything to do with reading unless it was the newspaper or the TV guide. He couldn't understand the point, though, but the last time a book passed over the threshold of Number 4 Privet Drive it had been torn to bits and Harry had gone to bed with a headache.

As he read the book, Harry let his mind wander around. He was still wondering what Miss Ross was up to although he was curious about what he was going to do now. Harry wondered if he should stop for now, and lie low and not sell any more toys but while the idea was attractive, he didn't see much point. The woman could have just been warning him she was watching him generally. He lifted his head and looked around the quad for any tell-tale signs of the teachers. He saw a couple, but they were looking elsewhere.

_Am I being paranoid? _Harry thought to himself as he looked around closely, studying every single window surrounding the quad. The school circled the quad like a horseshoe, so it was easy for him to look around and see if there were any faces in the windows looking specifically at him. There weren't any.

_Okay, so she isn't __**watching **__me right now, but I'll keep an eye out all the same. I'm not doing anything wrong in the school, but if the Dursleys get wind of what I'm doing with Dudder's old toys because of her or one of the other teachers, then my life won't be worth living. Then again, maybe its a good idea to lie low for a little longer than usual? _he thought to himself.

Once he had reached his decision, Harry felt much happier. When the bell rang and the school resumed, Harry returned to his class, much more clear-headed than before, But he was still wondering what he could do about any teacher that poked their noses into his business. He doubted the other kids would tattle even with his reputation, though a few of them had asked about where he had gotten the toys. Still, their desire for high-quality toys (some of them at least) had won out over any thought of grassing him up. But that didn't mean he had to trust them.

* * *

For three weeks Harry avoided doing any business with any of the kids at the school because of two reasons - firstly he wanted to prove to the students and to the teachers he was not a thief and truly didn't care what they thought about him, and because he wanted to make sure his paranoia was nothing to be worried about.

Unfortunately, his worst fears were confirmed.

He had seen Miss Ross and a few of the other teachers watching him. He couldn't believe it; he had been at the school for a year now, and they still thought he was going to do something as stupid as to steal from the other students and the school. Did they really think he hadn't learnt anything after what happened last time?

Miss Ross continued to send him looks in class. Harry ignored her each time, though he was frustrated she was only proving to him his worst fears were confirmed.

During the fourth week, however, Harry was back with his customers.

"We were wondering what was keeping you, Potter," one of the boys commented. "What happened?

"I wanted to lie low in case any of the teachers were spying on me," Harry replied shortly; he knew it wasn't really a good idea to tell them what happened, but they only needed the basics. If they knew Ross had confronted him, it would make them hopefully take precautions in case the busy-body bitch or one of the other teachers looked like they were paying more attention than they should.

He smirked inwardly when the boys shared a look. Well, that worked.

One of the boys picked up a small action figure and expertly looked it over; Harry was reminded of David Dickenson or one of those other experts off of one of those antique programs he had caught glimpses of when he was clearing the table at Number 4. "I'll give you…two quid for this," he said.

Harry nodded. He would have preferred a lot more than that since coins were harder to conceal than notes, which made no distinctive noise whereas a coin made a clanging sound if bashed against something, but he knew better than to press. "Okay," he replied while he mentally prepared his secret weapon as he was keeping the rest of the quad under observation.

Next to go were a few Batman comics, which went for considerably more than a few quid. After that, a few Spider-Man figures went, and next a couple of toy cars. By the time he was finished, Harry had successfully collected £15 off of the others and he walked away from them. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone trying to stay hidden and would have succeeded if he hadn't noticed her earlier. He sighed inwardly and walked inside the school.

Later at lunch, the Headmaster himself came into the hall followed closely by Miss Ross and the deputy headteacher, eliciting a few stares and whispers while the entourage looked around the hall for someone specific before they marched over to where Harry was sitting and eating his food slowly.

"Potter?"

"Has he been nicking things?"

"Always knew that kid was a freak."

Harry closed his eyes when he heard the whispers. _Great, this is really going to go down well with the Dursleys, _he cursed as he continued to eat his meal while the headteachers and his own form tutor approached. He wasn't going to give them any respect whatsoever especially since he knew this would inevitably get back at the Dursleys. While his relatives weren't friendly with the parents of the kids here, that didn't mean the kids wouldn't talk and word would reach the Dursleys.

He closed his eyes and hoped he could get some peace, and just as he was thinking that the entourage appeared by his shoulder. "Well Mr Potter," the Headmaster said with some thing in his voice Harry couldn't understand at the moment because he was too busy wrapped up in his own worries about what the Dursleys would do to him. "I seem to remember telling you any thefts in this school would see you in trouble."

_Don't I know it. _

"I haven't stolen anything," Harry didn't take his eyes off of his food.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" the Headmaster's sudden bark made Harry look up at him in surprise for a moment before he relaxed slightly, though the loudness of the man's voice had reminded him momentarily of Vernon when he was in an awful mood, but fortunately it wasn't Vernon Dursley.

"Miss Ross here saw you taking money off of kids. You are going to hand the money to me." The Headmaster moved slowly away, clearly intending to take this to his office where he and his fellow teachers would be in control.

But Harry had no intention of doing that.

If he was led away then the rumour mill would start up and the Dursleys would catch wind of it, but if he did it here then hopefully the teachers would be humiliated enough to back off… Then again they might not. It might make them nastier.

Well, he'd cross that bridge later, but he was _not leaving. _

Putting on a long-suffering expression, Harry sighed and he pulled out his pockets. They were empty. Then he turned around and showed off his back pocket. But there was nothing there either and he turned around to gauge their reactions.

The teachers looked at each other in shock. It was clear they had hoped they could pin something on Harry, but with this development, they'd been knocked off-kilter. Harry sweetened the humiliation by opening up his book bag and showing off the contents. He flicked through the books, showing nothing but the pages. There were no pound notes or coins of any kind. Finally, Harry repacked them and looked up at the teachers.

The Headmaster was now looking at Miss Ross with a glare though there was a kind of petulance there Harry would have expected from Dudley. It was clear the old fool had wanted to get Harry for something today.

"Miss Ross, my office, NOW!" the Headmaster barked and he swept out of the hall, Miss Ross protesting every step of the way as she walked out.

Harry just sat back down and continued to eat while he was masking his satisfaction just barely. He had just humiliated the teachers in front of the entire school, made them look like idiots, though he had no idea what was going to happen next. He didn't know if the other students would talk, or Miss Ross herself would tell the Dursleys what he had _supposedly _done out of a sense of spite.

He wouldn't put it past her either, but he had succeeded.

After all, what teacher would demand they search the sock he was wearing?


	4. Chapter 4 The Hypnotic Wall-Crawler

I am so sorry it's taken so long just to post this chapter. However, I have been extraordinarily busy as of late. I am hoping to post more chapters later in the Christmas month.

Please let me know what you think.

* * *

Harry Potter - The Spider-Man Burglar.

Fortunately word of the incident with Miss Ross hadn't reached the Dursleys; he didn't know if it was because the teachers had been so humiliated they had wanted to save face or some other reason which was typical of this miserable dump that was Little Whinging, but the surprising thing was he had not heard anything from the neighbours who would have spread the gossip around, and it would have only been a matter of time before Vernon beat him up again.

But nothing had happened.

Harry guessed the kids had been so let down by the drama they hadn't seen the point, but he wasn't going to tempt fate. Another thing he had done was to avoid committing any more thefts and selling them off at the school. Just because Miss Ross had been humiliated in front of the whole school and he'd been let off the hook did not mean it would be the end of it since the teachers at the poxy school were keeping an eye on him, only this time they were more vigilant. Harry knew they didn't want to be humiliated like their colleague, not that he really cared. But still, they were keeping an eye out on him even more nowadays, fully expecting him to steal food or cash.

They needn't have worried.

Ever since that incident in the hall, Harry he had simply told the kids he sold Dudley's old, discarded toys to he wasn't going to do it anymore for a few weeks until the heat had died down, in the meantime he would find other places where he could sell them without Miss Ross, who had doubled her

_**Harry Watch, **_as he called it. Fortunately, they had listened, although he hoped they hadn't been completely spooked.

He _needed them. _

He needed them far more than they needed him. The more money he had, the more he could use later in life, so he could use it to get away from the Dursleys, and never see Number 4, or Little Whinging ever again.

Harry was spending most of what free time he had in the library. It was quiet there, and since the librarian had no reason to bar him since he always returned the books back to the places they came from and treated the place with the respect it deserved, she left him alone. He didn't know how she felt about him being in the library, and he didn't care.

He was enjoying reading the books in the library, and he had picked up a great deal. Reading had always relaxed him and given him the chance to let his mind wander, but it was a pity the Dursleys didn't particularly like books for some reason Harry had never really worked out in Aunt Petunia's place since the woman, although shrill and not incredibly bright, wasn't thick.

The books represented freedom; a fiction novel could spirit him away to other places pictured inside his head, a detective story could place him in the middle of a crime scene, where he would slowly think through the crimes, and identify the murderer. A romance novel - just because he was a boy didn't mean he was completely unhappy with the thought of broadening his mind, although the genre was gross in places. Science-fiction and fantasy worlds could help him see fictional worlds and times where humans were either still knights, fighting vampires or werewolves, or were speeding across space and time, visiting new worlds, battling for empire or exploration.

But the time he spent in the library gave Harry the time to think.

It had been three weeks since the incident with Miss Ross, and the teacher was literally drooling with the desire to find something incriminating on Harry. He had decided to wait for a short amount of time before he continued with his operation to sell Dudley's junk for some profit, all saving up for the day when he could move out, and hopefully find something, some way of making something of his life without being reduced to the level of a homeless guy.

Harry shuddered at the thought, and he had no intention of doing that. While he had no problem with stealing from his classmates, he baulked at the thought of failing school. He had no intention of allowing that to happen. He wanted to get good marks, he wanted to become someone, hopefully, move out of the dump that was Number 4 and get rich enough to maybe change his name to get away from the Dursleys in case they came after him, hoping to get some of his money.

Again, that was not going to happen, not if he could help it; unfortunately, he had no idea how he was going to ensure it didn't happen.

Harry rubbed his eyes and continued to read, but the bell rang. He sighed and stood up, wincing from the cramp in his feet. He hobbled around a bit and took deep breaths before the cramp was gone, and he put the book back and left the library.

Miss Ross glared at him when he walked in, almost a few minutes late; he didn't particularly care about coming in late or early, Miss Ross would find something to moan about. He had learnt it quickly, but fortunately, the woman had toned down her endless harangues. She was still a little bit cowed by what had happened, and she didn't want a repeat of the humiliation. But now she was looking for proof of his wrongdoings. Harry mentally snorted and wished the stupid woman would find something a little bit better to occupy her time with.

The trouble was he knew she wouldn't; the woman was as bad, if not worse, than Aunt Petunia, who was constantly looking for something to use against him. Harry wished he could just count down the days until he could finally just say goodbye to these people, and just leave. He breathed out through his nostrils even as he worked on a maths question.

Just leave.

Runaway.

He had, naturally, considered it many times, and yet something kept stopping him. He didn't understand it since he hated the Dursleys, and they brought him nothing but pain and misery. Why would he want to stay with them?

And yet, a weird voice in the back of his head…it kept saying _the Dursleys are your family, they care for you. Why leave them? No, don't go, stay. You are safe…_

Harry couldn't believe he would think that about the Dursleys. He hated them, the feeling was mutual. He shook his head and returned his mind to the task in hand. He worked at a reasonably good pace while he did his level best to keep his true intelligence showing; just because Dudley was not here did not necessarily mean the Dursleys wouldn't punish him for getting a few marks higher.

Personally, Harry had reached the point where he didn't care, although he knew he would need to change his attitude if he found a way of getting away from the Dursleys, and into a different school where no-one knew him or knew anything of his past, but he was prepared for that. But at this point, he knew he would need to keep up a pretence while he barely hid his disgust for everyone around him.

When the day was over, Harry picked up his bag but Miss Ross called him back. He closed his eyes and mentally counted to seven to rein in the urge to shout at her.

"What can I do for you, Miss Ross?" he asked dutifully, doing his best to sound at least interested in whatever it was the boring woman was going to say to him this time.

The teacher looked daggers at him. "I don't know what you're doing, but I've got my eye on you. All the time."

_Really? Oh, if that were the case then why aren't you seeing me being shoved into that many time damned cupboard under the stairs? _Harry asked himself but he didn't say a word.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," Harry smiled politely, deciding to wind her up a little bit although he hoped she wasn't petty enough to tell the Dursleys about it.

The woman looked like she was about to breathe fire on him. "I know you're a thief, Potter. I will be watching you-."

"Oh, yes, like you did last time?" Harry snapped, losing his patience and temper with her.

"You were acting oddly."

"What, and you think I was committing thefts? Why don't you people get the facts before you accuse someone of something?" Harry snarled, his anger making him reckless. "You got done in, remember, and I hadn't done anything wrong. I don't understand what you've got against me. Any of you. I never did anything to you, and yet I am humiliated all the time. Teachers watching me each day. If you've really got a problem with me, then get on with it and tell me instead of suspecting me of everything that goes wrong? I'm going now, and I _really really _don't care what you think about that."

Harry turned around and walked out, but when he got out he closed his eyes and cursed. _I really _shouldn't _have done that. But what's one more beating? _

It was a morbid thought, and not one anyone Harry's age should be thinking. But he couldn't help it.

XXX

The next beating he endured had nothing to do with the teacher, or even the school. It was just one of those days where Vernon, along with Dudley, both felt they couldn't get through a week without their fix. Harry was unable to go to sleep during the night because of his injuries, and he lay awake for ages.

Harry didn't have a watch or even a clock, so he couldn't even tell just how long he had been lying there, and how late it was, but he had heard the Dursleys trudge upstairs, Dudley had performed his usual stomping ritual on the stairs before his mother told him to head to bed and leave him, the freak, alone. After that, he had listened through the close wooden walls of the cupboard the sounds of the Dursleys getting ready for bed before finally closing their doors. He'd heard a few mutters from Vernon, but beyond that, he hadn't heard anything barring the usual snores from Vernon and Dudley.

Harry had tried to get some sleep himself, but he was in too much pain and each time he tried, he would move and he would be jolted back awake again.

_I'm safe here, am I? Safe with these evil savages? They're animals; I don't feel safe with them, doubt I ever would. _Harry closed his eyes, tired of mocking the weird inner voice in his mind which always played that stupid thought where the Dursleys loved him, and he was safe here.

Mocking an inner voice was going to do nothing for his current health, but there was nothing else he could do. Harry wished he were somewhere else, somewhere other than this filthy cupboard, with its dust, the dirty mattress and the dirty sheets covered with all kinds of germs and God knew what else.

_Oh, if I die here now…I will definitely hope I meet those useless bastards who're my parents. I wish sometimes I had died in that car crash, at least then I wouldn't have been brought here. Is this a sick idea of hell, just drop me off on the doorstep of a family who've got dubious connections with my own, and then let them beat me around. _

The thought made the anger Harry had always buried deeper and deeper within him, while he wished he could open the door of his **dungeon, **and he was surprised when the lock slid backwards and the door opened.

Harry gaped with shock at the open door and the bliss of seeing he had the downstairs floor all to himself. But how had it happened? He slowly and painfully unfolded his body, and he crept out of the cupboard slowly, fully expecting to see one of the Dursleys outside in the hallway, waiting for him, and ready to yell in alarm. But there was no-one there. Harry hobbled painfully through the house before he went into the kitchen and he gently turned on the tap. He was about to reach for a cup or a glass, but he realised quickly if he touched any of them then he would need to clean it thoroughly so then the Dursleys wouldn't find out; he knew if they found out what he had done, breaking out of the cupboard, they would likely kill him this time around.

Harry sighed and cupped the water in his hands and took a few gulps. He did this again and again until he felt he had drunk enough for tonight. But as he returned to the cupboard, he wondered how he was going to lock it. He remembered how angry he had been with the Dursleys for beating him, and yet at the same time, he'd wished the lock slid back. Harry closed his eyes and focused on the bolt, feeling all of the rages he had been feeling against the Dursleys. He pictured the beatings he had received, the mental putdowns from Vernon and Petunia, the times Dudley had chased him around the town with his gang of neanderthals and beating him up, that little bitch Granger grassing on him in school, the new school where the teachers simply wouldn't go away and let him get on with his life when all he wanted was to be left alone!

He channelled all that anger and emotion into the desire to slide the bolt across.

It did.

Harry sighed with relief. So far, so good.

He closed his eyes and gently lifted a hand, and he simply waved it to the side, concentrating on moving the bolt.

It worked!

He had worked a way of getting out of the cupboard.

As he slipped back into the cupboard, he wondered if this strange power he had could do anything about his injuries. He turned on the light after he had closed and locked the door. He wanted to see if this worked out for him or not. Harry closed his eyes, although he wasn't sure if this was exactly what he should be doing, he decided it was best if he had his eyes closed to concentrate. He visualised every single beating, every single time he had been punched and kicked and slapped hard enough to break a bone or make him bleed…and he channelled it all into one desire, the desire to be healed just slightly. He felt a strange feeling in his leg, where Dudley had stamped on it while he had placed all of his weight on it, which was the equivalent of a grown elephant snapping a tree in half.

He felt something _rising _inside of him. Something very powerful, and he smiled as he pushed that same power into his leg in order to heal it.

Okay, the description of an elephant stamping on his leg was more than a little melodramatic but he did not care. He had certainly felt like thin, twig-like legs be snapped in half, and as he felt the power heal his legs, knitting the bones back together, Harry kept his eyes closed as he thought about every single thing he had felt whenever the Dursleys had beaten him, the panic, the fear, the anger, and the pain.

His leg healed. Harry opened his eyes. He was amazed to still feel himself be dizzy after what he had done, but he pushed that aside while he examined the leg. For the most part it had healed, although it was still not in great shape, hopefully, in the morning, he would still be limping so the Dursleys wouldn't suspect what he had done.

And yet….

Harry was still amazed he had managed to heal himself, and at the same time, he had found a way of harnessing whatever it was the Dursleys hated and feared so much.

The answer was emotion. All he would need to do now was to practice while he felt angry over what was going on around him. Harry rested his head on the pillow, but he blinked and squinted his eyes when the bright, harsh light of the lightbulb hurt his eyes. He turned it off and he returned to his original position, thinking.

Harry had no idea what this power was, but he was reminded of the girl Carrie from the Stephen King novel as well as the girl Charley from his other novel Firestarter; he hadn't read either of them fully although he had access to the copies in the library at school, he knew enough about the plots to know what happened to the two characters.

One of them was capable of moving things through the power of the mind, the book called it telekinesis, while the second book showed a child and a father being hunted by a shady government cabal who wanted to harness her abilities to use as a weapon.

_Could I have that power? _Harry thought to himself, momentarily entertaining himself with visions of turning Little Whinging into an inferno which would have placed the Great Fire of London to shame (he pushed that out of his mind, although he shelved it just in case, it was tempting and it provided him with a lovely fantasy for a few minutes), but he had to think practically.

Harry had a way out of the cupboard under the stairs, so maybe he could build on it. He sighed and closed his eyes. He knew he would need to practice this ability and try to discover what he could and could not do.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. A smile crossed Harry's face and he closed his eyes to concentrate his power as he pressed his hand against the wall, remembering sticking to the wall that time which seemed to him so long ago, only this time he used his newfound discovery of how he could make his power work to fuel it.

His hand pressed against the wall of the cupboard, he tried to pull it back.

His hand remained pressed against the wall.

Harry's eyes widened as he gasped at the sight, grinning. "Wicked!" he whispered, excited by the possibilities.

He closed his eyes again, visualising his hand free. He pulled and his hand came free.

Opening his eyes again, Harry looked at his hands again, and he smirked as a number of possibilities for what he could put this new skill to come into his mind.

But still, he had needed to know for sure if this was a fluke. He took a deep breath and pressed his hands against the wall, wanting them to stick to the wall. They both did.

Harry grinned again. He wondered for a moment how this was possible, but he decided it made little difference since he was sticking to the wall. But he took his oversized socks off and pressed his feet and his hands to the wall, and he concentrated again. Amazing! His hands and his feet could both stick to the walls. All he would need to do was mentally will it to happen, and all he needed to do to come loose was to simply reverse his concentration.

Harry opened the cupboard under the stairs and he got out, wincing in pain slightly since there was still some residual pain in his once-injured leg, but he pushed that aside although he knew he would have to act like an injured kid for the Dursleys benefit, as long as he shook off the stupid facade when he reached school and could be himself once more, he would be fine. The hard part would be to make sure he remembered he had been injured when he left, but that was nothing.

In the meantime…Harry went to the wall which went upstairs to the second floor. He pressed his hands and feet against the wall and he slowly climbed up, sticking to the wall. Harry slowly crawled upside down on the ceiling. He felt some of his blood go to his head, but he ignored the effects, although he made a mental note to practice this newly found skill so then it became second nature for him.

Harry crawled along the ceiling going from one room to another. He found it a little disconcerting and nauseous to crawl along the ceiling and see everything upside down. He averted his eyes and kept his eyes on the ceiling ahead, deciding to focus on that instead. He could work on how the blood went to his brain and everything else later.

Harry crawled around the ceiling for an hour before he went to a wall and he started to climb down it before he reached the floor, visualising his hands and feet were now free. "Awesome," Harry whispered before he went back to the cupboard and he slipped in and closed and locked the door.

XXX

Discovering the wall-climbing ability couldn't have come at a better time for Harry, and as he sat in the first lesson at school the next day he was relieved he had. Miss Ross was looking at him suspiciously, although that was nothing strange since the woman had it out for him. Ordinarily, Harry would tune her out and just ignore the woman. Unfortunately, as he was leaving for the lunch break, Harry turned and found Miss Ross following the class to the hall where the tables had been set up for the students' lunch.

Harry mentally sighed, _why can't this woman just leave me _alone?

He seriously doubted this woman was not just an ordinary teacher; she simply must know the Dursleys although they didn't make any sense since he had never heard anything along those lines.

Harry resolved to just ignore the woman and he took a look at his lunch and his stomach clenched. It was just a sandwich and yoghurt. Nothing more. His annoyance surged through him, knowing Dudley was probably having the lunch box equivalent of a nine-course meal. It was extravagant, but that was Dudley.

Harry looked enviously at the lunches everyone else had. He had nothing to trade for something better, and besides, he was used to this. He unwrapped the sandwich, wincing as he saw it was something he despised by nature. Cheese and pickle were gross, and yet Aunt Petunia loved giving it to him. He shoved the sandwich back into the box in disgust, and he took out the yoghurt, seeing it was cherry flavoured. Another thing he loathed, still at least it was better than a cheese and pickle sandwich which looked like congealed vomit.

He grimaced as he ate the yoghurt and he finished up quickly and he left the hall in disgust. He was already planning on getting something to eat from a corner shop or something, and although it would use some of the money he had on his person, it would be worth it to live just one more day.

Harry passed Miss Ross just as he was heading to the library. "Finished already?" the teacher asked.

Harry just ignored her.

Miss Ross was furious. "Excuse me, I was speaking to you-," the teacher grabbed him by the arm.

Harry swung around and pushed her off. "Don't touch me," he snapped and walked off, already cursing himself for his loss of control. The teacher recovered from her shock quickly and she hurried after him as he was heading into the library.

"You can't go in there!" she snapped.

"Why not?" Harry demanded as he opened the door, nodding to the librarian on duty while he turned to face the arrogant woman who'd followed him here.

"Because you should be outside-."

"Don't tell me what to do in my free time," Harry said calmly before he walked inside, shaking with rage.

He needed to do something, anything, to get that annoying woman out of his hair. He walked through the library and he spotted a book whose title caught his eye.

_The Demon Headmaster. _

Intrigued, Harry took it out and opened it and he went to sit down to read. Within minutes, an idea was coming into his mind. He could stick to walls and unlock doors, but what if he could hypnotise someone like the Demon Headmaster, a creepy and cold megalomaniac who desired an orderly world more than anything?

The idea was intriguing…

But he had no way of knowing if it would work, but if he could make it work then the advantages would be beyond belief worthwhile. Still, he would need to find a test subject who would be worth it.

At that moment he spotted another student, a girl. Harry walked over to her, taking in her appearance. He knew her; she was one of those girls who derided him for no reason other than the fact everyone else did. Good. She was wearing a silver bangle around her wrist. Perfect. A perfect experiment.

"Excuse me," he whispered, concentrating on his power to make the girl do what he wanted her to do. The girl looked at him questioningly. "Look into my eyes," he said. "Give me your bangle."

The girl did as she was told, her eyes glazed.

"Good," he smiled. "Now, kiss me on the cheek."

The girl leaned forward and kissed him.

"Good girl," Harry praised, already thinking about the things he could do with this ability, given time and practice. "Now, take the bangle back. When I click my fingers, you will remember nothing. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the girl answered, her voice calm.

Harry clicked his fingers.

The girl snapped out of the trance and she looked at him questioningly. "Sorry, did you want something?"

"No," Harry replied.

"Great," the girl sneered at him. "Then get away from me, freak!"

"Gladly," Harry replied and he walked away. He knew he could have made her do anything else, but he was pleased with his current use of his power. With a bit of luck, it would work on Miss Ross.

An evil smirk crossed his face as he thought about the things he would make her do. No, he would need to form a plan.

XXX

Harry was heading back to Number 4 when he went into the corner shop. A few minutes later he came out again with twice the number of food he had expected. He went to a park and he started to eat slowly and thoughtfully.

It had been a surprise being able to hypnotise someone so easily, and it opened so many possibilities for him that he was excited by them. If he could hypnotise people, perhaps he could escape the Dursleys, or do something else to them that would free him from this dump once and for all.

True, he would need to practice on others while he formed his plans. Harry finished his food and he continued on his way back to Privet Drive. It was on his way there that he encountered his cousins' gang.

Harry sighed, but he fought down his initial urge to just run away and get clear of them before they got too close.

"What are you doing, freak?" Piers sneered.

Harry didn't say a word as he concentrated his power on the boys. A few minutes later they walked away from him. A cruel smirk crossed Harry's face as he watched them from a distance, and he followed them onwards as they caught sight of a teenage gang they were trying to emulate. He watched as Dudley and his friends tried to beat up the teenagers, but the older boys who were stronger and more experienced with fighting had little trouble with putting Dudley's friends in their place.

Harry turned and walked away.

XXX

While he was in class the next day, Harry was looking forward to the end of the class, especially since, if this worked out the way he hoped it would, he would never be seeing Miss Ross ever again. Finally, when the lesson ended, he walked up to the desk.

The teacher looked at him with both surprise and revulsion. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"I want you to look into my eyes, Miss Ross," Harry concentrated on his power and within moments she was sitting down rigidly like a machine awaiting its programming.

"Repeat your orders," Harry said.

In a calm, mechanical sounding voice, the teacher replied, "I am to go to the headmaster's office tomorrow morning, and I am to hand in my resignation and say I want to apply for a different teaching post in London."

"Correct. When you have a teaching post, you are to treat your students with kindness and respect," Harry went on, "and you are going to become a constructive member of society."

"Member of society," Ross repeated in her emotionless, hypnotised voice; Harry wondered if the woman would look and sound the same as his Aunt Petunia would if he hypnotised her.

"Yes. It's hard for someone of your limited intelligence to grasp that concept, but it is your instruction," Harry went on, but something occurred to him. "Miss Ross, why do you hate Harry Potter."

"I was told by Petunia Dursley Harry Potter was a delinquent and a thief."

Harry raised a brow. "How do you know Petunia Dursley?" he asked.

"She is a friend of mine," Miss Ross answered.

Harry believed that; he didn't know all of Petunia's friends, in fact, he had always gone out of his way to avoid the harpies since they always treated him like he was scum. "I see," he said, his mind racing as he thought through the possibilities. Something entered his mind as he realised he had another advantage over the teacher.

"Miss Ross, have you ever been blackmailed?" he asked.

"No," the teacher replied.

"Well, you will be. Miss Ross, I want you to take some paper out of your desk," he went on and waited for the teacher to do as he commanded, "and I want you to write down anything incriminating about yourself and your friends. I want to know the details, anything incriminatory and I want you to provide the details, especially evidence to back up your wrongdoings."

"Yes, wrongdoings," Miss Ross replied automatically as she picked up a pen and obeyed Harry's commands.

It took the teacher twenty minutes to write out the list of things she had done. Harry was amazed in spite of himself when he glanced briefly at the list, amazed that his aunts' friends were not entirely innocent after all. "Very good," he said, putting the paper into his bag. "Good. Now, Miss Ross, when I snap my fingers you will remember nothing. You will assume we have just had a talk with you scolding me, and your instructions are implanted. You will take the letter of resignation straight to the headmaster in the morning. Understood?"

"Yes, understood."

Harry snapped his fingers.

When he was out of the school, Harry thought about some of the things he had gotten out of Miss Ross. Finding out half of the women in Aunt Petunia's circle of friends had committed infidelity on their husbands made him want to laugh, and it also made him determined to get hold of evidence which would be incriminating enough to make them do what he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Harry thought about the other instance of hypnotism he had used, inflicting on Dudley to make his obese cousin do what he was told. Dudley and his friends had been badly beaten up by that gang of teenagers, and they didn't have any memory of what he had done to them, so that was perfect. Even better, with Dudley practically invalidated the Dursleys were fawning more over him than they were worried about what he was doing.

Even the girl he had hypnotised for the first time had no memory of what had happened to her, and he was hoping it remained like that. In the meantime, Harry had to be thankful; he now had a weapon he could use against his aunt and her friends. He only needed to find a way of gathering information, intelligence as spy movies and novels referred to it as. Once he had it all, he would begin blackmailing them.

All the money he had been gathering from the sale of Dudley's old tat would look small in comparison to the amount of money he was going to steal from the women he was planning on blackmailing. It was good.

* * *

I couldn't resist doing the hypnotism part.


	5. Chapter 5 The Christmas Wrecker

I don't own Harry Potter, you should know that by now.

Merry Christmas.

* * *

Harry Potter - The Spider-Man Burglar.

Miss Ross had gone. It had worked a treat!

For a time, Harry had been worried the plan of getting rid of the arrogant woman wouldn't have worked, that the whole thing would have failed because it was too complicated, but it hadn't.

His fears had been for nothing.

Yes, hypnotising that girl and then using the same trick on his thick-headed simpleton of a cousin and his equally stupid friends had worked out, but what he had done between those two incidents and what he'd done to Miss Ross were both different; with Miss Ross, he had hypnotised her into giving him information which he would hopefully bring down Aunt Petunia's precious friends but also to send her away where he would never have to deal with her again.

Harry pushed all thoughts of the woman aside, and he worked on his future while he filed away the information the teacher had given him for the future, wherein the long run he would figure out a decent way of using it against the bitches his Aunt was a part of. Indeed it was something he was looking forward to, for the chance of blackmailing his own aunt.

After Miss Ross left, Harry decided to continue practicing and developing his hypnotic skills and he had also begun practicing his wall-crawling abilities while at the same time while the school needed time to find a replacement for Miss Ross. In fact, while he had begun practicing the wall-crawling ability still, Harry had begun focusing more and more on his wall-crawling skills, beginning more controlled experiments with the skill, and pushing himself further and further on. In the meantime, the teacher who'd taken her place was a little more impartial than her predecessor, although like the rest of the teachers the replacement was wary of him, she didn't push Harry in the same manner as Miss Ross. He decided to leave her alone

After he had spent a week getting on with his skills, Harry gained more experience with wall-crawling now he had gotten the basics of how he should stick to the walls. He had learnt how to activate his wall-crawling powers instinctively, so he didn't need to worry himself sick by leaning against a wall, and pulling himself away only to find a part of him sticking to the wall still.

At the same time, he continued to experiment with his power and conducting small experiments and learning from the experiences and from the results he got in turn.

Unfortunately, as he continued to experiment with his wall-crawling skills, he inevitably began practicing sticking on the glass. For some reason, he found that glass was even harder to adhere to, and he guessed the smoothness of the material alone was the cause. But anyway, one day as he pushed himself to scale one of the Dursleys French windows. The experiment took place late at night where the Dursleys were asleep and were unlikely to disturb him as he carried out the experiment. Harry had begun scaling the glass door, pushing more and more of his power into adhering to the glass while he scaled it, the sound of a bird he couldn't see spooked him, and he lost concentration for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

Harry fell to the ground, but fortunately, he went away with a few scrapes to his hand that while they stung they didn't really cause him that much pain. Unwilling to let the whole night go to waste, Harry had continued practicing the wall scaling skill, only this time he stuck to brick for the time being while he had used as much power as he could to keep adhered to the wall. As he climbed the brick wall, Harry thought about what had just happened.

He could stick to the glass, but he needed to focus on concentrating on holding on the whole time. For brick and plaster and wood, that wasn't a problem although it was still a factor.

But while the obvious answer would be to simply avoid crawling across the glass, Harry knew it wouldn't be so simple. He knew he would eventually have to scale a glass wall, and glass was a fairly common building material. He'd seen really high walls made from the stuff, and he didn't like the thought of just giving up anyway. His life could depend on it.

Harry bit his lip, and then he crawled slowly down the wall until he reached the patio again. After letting go of the wall, Harry walked back to the french windows and he took a deep breath and he pressed his hands and fingers against the glass, pressing down really hard. After he felt he had pushed enough of his power into the tips of his fingers and the palms of his hands into the glass, Harry closed his eyes and did his best to picture the wall so he could concentrate hard enough to keep clinging to the wall.

He lifted his feet and he moved up his hands.

His feet followed.

Harry was climbing the glass of the French doors. But he went all the way up, maintaining his concentration the whole time. When he reached the guttering, he stopped; he didn't know if one of the Dursleys would hear him on the rooftop if he went that far up since he had no way of knowing if one of them was a light-ish sleeper since he had never disturbed them late at night. Well, not as far as he could recall.

Harry twisted himself so he was horizontal rather than vertical, and he crawled along the wall slowly though he ducked down behind Dudley's window. He could hear the muffled sounds of his piggy cousin's snores through the brick wall and the windows, but again he didn't know for certain if Dudley was a light sleeper or not, but he wasn't going to try to find out since the Dursleys might lash out at him even if they could never prove he had been scaling the walls outside their son's bedroom.

Harry crawled around the house although he didn't go all the way around so he would find himself in the street. Harry crawled back and silently went through the house, locking the backdoor behind him while he went as silently as he could back into the cupboard under the stairs. After closing the door behind him, the passageway was dark but suddenly through the doorframe, a soft bright light shone through the narrow gaps.

Inside the cupboard, Harry was lost in thought for a minute while he held the glowing ball of light in his hand. While he'd succeeded in pushing himself tonight, he knew it wasn't over yet. The only problem was there were very few glass-fronted or backed buildings in Little Whinging.

Harry shivered a little bit. Winter was coming up rapidly. In a few months time, it would be Christmas. Harry grimaced at the thought of the festive season since it wasn't festive for him. While the Dursleys porked their way through one meal after another, spending huge amounts of cash on Dudley, Harry received zilch.

All he got from Christmas were Vernon and Petunia gloating to him that "_Santa Claus doesn't come to freaks!" _and half-eaten scraps. Most times Harry genuinely felt Christmas was a waste of time since nothing productive came out of it, and besides since it was supposed to be a time for giving and a time for family, Harry never got any of it since he had no family, and no-one spared him a thought. It only made him despise his parents even more since they had died, leaving him to rot in this fucked up place.

But not this year.

This year, Harry planned on going on a burglary spree. He didn't care if he would be ruining the festive cheer for the people in Little Whinging. In his mind they'd had it for years, they could do without for one.

"…just getting some water, Pet," the sleepy voice of his uncle above which sounded like gravel being mixed in a cement mixer interrupted his thoughts.

Harry gasped and he instantly put out the light in his hand while he mentally went through his mind all the things he had done when he had unlocked the door. As always he'd had some water, but no food since the Dursleys were always keeping an eye on what was in the fridge and what wasn't in there. He had cleaned and washed the glass, and he had moved it back into the cupboard.

_Oooh, I don't think I put the chair back. Or did I? _Harry thought to himself with a mental wince while he heard his uncle lumbering down the stairs, grunting all the way. Harry kept still, hoping that his uncle was too sleepy to notice a thing. _Oh, what am I thinking? If he's getting water then he will notice, and then he'd lose it…_

Harry listened as his uncle walked into the kitchen, switching on the light.

But there was no sound of anger, no bellow of rage. All that came from the kitchen was the sound of a cupboard door opening with the hinge squeaking slightly and the sound of a tap running and then the sounds of someone drinking. Harry kept very still while he heard his uncle go back upstairs again before he heard the sound of the master bedroom door shutting.

He closed his eyes and he rested his head on his dirty pillow. As he waited for sleep to overtake him, Harry hoped that he formed a plan soon of committing a real burglary in Little Whinging.

XXX

As the days passed normally at Privet Drive, Harry continued practicing with his wall-climbing ability and he took advantage of the skill when Dudley and his gang chased him again during one of their Harry Hunting games. Harry had run down a cul-de-sac lined with brick and concrete walls, but he had quickly scaled the wall and had managed to clamber over the rooftop itself without anyone seeing him before Dudley and the others came down the cul-de-sac.

While the gang had scratched their heads, Harry was racing across the rooftop and he had quickly found a wall leading down to an alleyway. He had climbed down slowly in case anyone was seeing him, and he had made his escape. But while he was good at climbing brick and concrete walls now, Harry hadn't yet found any glass walls he could properly climb for long periods to give him the chance to scale them and give him the experience he needed to get to grips with holding onto glass.

Harry had decided not to let it worry him. Little Whinging was littered with hundreds of houses and buildings made of bricks and concrete, so he didn't see the point of worrying about it now. In any case, he was getting closer and closer to the nights where he would be a burglar and give the people of Little Whinging a Christmas they would never forget anytime soon.

On the night before Christmas Day, Harry sneaked out of the decorated Privet Drive, not paying any attention whatsoever to the tackily decorated house his relatives favoured, but since he'd been the one to do three-quarters of the work decorating the sad, plastic white tree the Dursleys loved so much, he paid it little attention.

Harry walked out of Number 4's backdoor and he proceeded to walk two streets away from the Dursley house. He walked for a good half an hour before he arrived at a street with a particular house. Harry had decided to burgle the house of one of Dudley's friends first. He had decided to choose Malcolm first. He would burgle Pier's house soon, teach the rat-faced bastard a lesson. He scaled the wall first and he crawled around the back and peeped in through the windows, or tried to since he couldn't see past the curtains.

Once he reached the backdoor, Harry flicked his hands over the house, closing his eyes and picturing and willing everyone as well as everything living inside the house to be fast asleep before he unlocked the door. As he stepped inside carefully, Harry went quietly upstairs and he walked into the bedrooms where he could see Malcolm and his little brother already had their stockings put up. Harry was tempted to steal the presents inside, keep them as trophies, but he decided against it. He would let the family think their Christmas was going to be marvellous although they would soon learn differently when they saw what he did downstairs.

Harry flicked his hand and summoned all of the money in the room. Silver, gold and copper coloured coins, which shone as they hovered through the air towards the bag. Rustling a little, like leaves in the wind, were the pound notes as they came out of a drawer in Malcolm's wardrobe. Harry shook his head.

He had known for a long time Malcolm, like the rest of Dudley's gang, had been stealing cash from other kids at school, and he had little doubt the others had a nice stash themselves.

In the master bedroom, Harry frowned as he caught sight of Malcolms' parents. He wondered if the pair of them were as deluded as the Dursleys were about their own son, believing Malcolm to be an angel and not a bully. Harry just shrugged and he got back to work. He waved his hand over the vanity table and all the woman's jewellery came floating out and went into the bag.

Once he was finished with stealing the money and jewellery from the bedrooms, Harry went downstairs towards the tree. He looked at it for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of what he was about to do before all the memories of how he had been mocked as a child around this time of year. Decision made, Harry raised his hands, and ripped the tree to pieces, sending ornaments and pieces of tinsel flying everywhere. The tree staggered at the force of the attack, but Harry flicked his hands in a tearing motion, and piece of branch and pine needle went flying everywhere.

Looking in satisfaction at the devastation, Harry nodded and he walked out of the house.

XXX

The next house Harry broke into was the one next door. He shook his head as he studied the house quietly outside, sneering at the extravagant decorations. This was the problem with the people who lived in Little Whinging; everyone in suburbia loved to try to outdo the others, not caring at all how it looked. Anyway, he shrugged his shoulders and he waved his hand over the house, sending everyone to sleep.

After scaling the walls and crawling around the house in a manner similar to the way he'd gotten into Malcolm's house, Harry unlocked the backdoor of the house and he walked inside slowly. He paused in horror when he had barely taken a step inside through the kitchen when he heard the low sound of growling. Harry slowly turned around, and he gasped in horror when he saw the shape of a massive dog.

It was very dark in the kitchen, but there was just enough ambient light for Harry to make out the animals' details and he knew this thing was massive, and he was also guessing the things jaws were huge as well. Harry hated dogs thanks to Marge's Ripper, and the other filthy mangy beasts she often brought with her on her self-invited visits to Number 4. He still remembered the way they kept chasing him around the neighbourhood, and while it never failed to bring tears to Dudley's eyes, all it had done was make him hate the animals.

In this case, things were worse.

This dog was enormous and he knew if it got its jaws on him, it would be virtually impossible for him to hide the injuries. The Dursleys wouldn't care but even they would get suspicious, and they weren't completely stupid. The moment they heard about the burglaries, then they would only need to see the blood to put two and two together.

Harry stared at the dog, keeping very very still while at the same time he looked around the kitchen for a decent enough weapon, and he found one. He raised a finger at the knife block. With a slow _shiing _sound, several of the knives came out of the slits and flew at the dog, who yelped in shock, but it was too late since the knives were flying at it very quickly, and one embedded itself in the dog's thigh.

The dog howled with agony; Harry regretted the violence, and he wished he had only summoned one knife to slash the dog's throat. But it was too late now, although he hoped the dog's death throes wouldn't be what woke up the rest of the street. Harry summoned another knife, and with his hand to levitate it, he slashed the dog's throat.

Harry closed his eyes. _Mental note, _he thought to himself annoyed, _always make sure _everything _in a house is asleep before you burgle it. _

He kept very still as he listened out for any sign of the neighbours coming to investigate, but he heard nothing. Barely relieved by that, he bit his lip for a moment to work out what he was going to do next.

Harry decided to continue with the burglary, only he was going to do it more quickly since there was a chance the neighbours were getting out of their beds and coming to this house to investigate the noise. Harry stayed where he was in the kitchen as he closed his eyes and mentally sought out coins and notes as well as pieces of jewellery scattered throughout the house. He only needed to wait for a second or two before the coins and notes scattered on the ground floor of the house appeared first, coming from parts littered in the different rooms or in the pockets and wallets or purses of the people who lived here. They came towards him like a cloud.

Harry held open the bag as the treasure flew into the bag and mentally directed them to fly into the bag before the treasure trove from upstairs flew into the bag; Harry caught sight of a number of rings and bracelets, as well as a few necklaces, flew into the bag as well.

When he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door, Harry quickly took his leave and left the house. Once he was outside, he waved his hands over the property, letting the family or whoever lived in the house, wake up normally. He scaled the walls of the house he had just burgled, and he jumped onto the neighbours and then went further down the street to burgle the houses there.

XXX

"Pet!"

Harry groaned as he quickly woke up at the sound of his uncle's voice.

"Vernon, what's wrong? Oh, Happy Christmas, dear," Petunia said.

"Never mind that. Pet, there were over….fifteen burglaries late last night!"

"What?"

"I know," Vernon said, sounding like he was nodding his head as if he couldn't believe what he was saying himself.

Harry smiled. "Merry Christmas," he whispered to himself, thinking about the bag he'd placed under his cot. He knew it was perfectly safe since the Dursleys never searched his cupboard. He wasn't worried. He had already planned to hypnotise the Dursleys so if they suspected him, he would put them right.


	6. Chapter 6 The Discovery behind Mrs Figg

I am sorry it's taken so long to update, but I am back now.

As usual, I don't own anything. Please let me know what you think.

* * *

Harry Potter - The Spider-Man Burglar.

There were few things that really surprised Harry Potter anymore. At least that had been what he had originally thought before he had been forced to endure another spell of babysitting from Mrs Figg before he had gently hypnotised her and sent her to sleep so he could spend some time to himself with the cats.

Harry had found that he got along better with Mrs Figg's cats without the old woman present, and he also had the time to look around the property once he had her arranged comfortably on the settee. He had gone upstairs and he had checked the rooms Mrs Figg had never allowed him to venture inside before now for some bizarre reason although he guessed it was because she was just trying to maintain some semblance of privacy even if her reactions whenever his childish mind had dared him to go near the rooms had been over the top.

Yes, well now with the woman asleep and would likely be asleep for some time downstairs, Harry was free to explore those rooms while making sure he didn't disturb anything Mrs Figg would quickly notice. The woman may have been as nutty as a fruitcake, but he didn't know her that well to know what she was really like behind closed doors.

Harry had walked to the door of one of the rooms and he had checked it to see if it was locked. It was but there was no key.

That wasn't a problem. He simply unlocked the door with his mind and slipped slowly inside.

Harry wasn't entirely sure _what _he was going to find inside the room, but even he was surprised when he saw the pictures of people, some of whom even had a resemblance to the slumbering woman downstairs, who were moving in the frames.

He tilted his head in surprise as he watched them move, wondering if he had just seen things. Yeah, that was it. The only explanation. He must be seeing things; being able to hypnotise people and making them do whatever he wanted within reason, clinging to walls like Spider-Man, being able to open and close doors was strange enough, but this…this was weird.

Harry closed his eyes, saying to himself in his mind _I am seeing things, I am seeing things, the pictures are not moving. _He repeated the mantra over and over again. He reopened his eyes and stared at the photograph. He scowled when he saw the picture was moving still. But he had to admit to himself now it was no illusion. The pictures were moving. Harry sighed and looked away from the pictures, dismissing them for the time being as a mystery which could be solved later. In the meantime he went through the rest of the room, opening and closing the drawers carefully while at the same time being extremely careful not to make too much of an unholy mess in case Figg realised what he had done.

It didn't take long for him to find something interesting.

It was a letter. Harry sat down and read through it, but as he read it he felt his anger grow. After a moment when he had calmed down, Harry re-read the letter again.

_Dear Arabella, _

_Thank you for your letter regarding young Harry's wellbeing. I know it is hard for you to accept, the watching over of a magical child. But please remember, you are doing a great service by watching over Harry Potter, who will save us all from Lord Voldemort (my apologies for frightening you with reminding you of the name, my dear; but remember, fear of a name only increase the fear of the thing itself), and when Voldemort returns as I know he will, muggle-borns, squibs like yourself, and many others will be at risk. _

Harry frowned, confusion warring with his growing anger that someone was having Mrs Figg watch him when she was perhaps the most useless watcher in the world. _Squibs? Muggle-borns? What the fuck are they? Is this someone's idea of a joke? Magic?_

He was tempted to just throw the letter away, convinced it was nothing more than the mad ravings of a pair of cranks…but he didn't. He remembered his strange powers, his ability to crawl and run along walls, his ability to hypnotise and control people, and how he could open doors. _Is that….magic? _he asked himself.

Yeah, he was tempted to dismiss the letter as the work of cranks playing a joke, but there was no way he could excuse everything he was seeing unless the Dursleys had paid off a number of people into playing a very long prank on him. Harry considered the idea, and he quickly dismissed it. No, the Dursleys wouldn't do this. Yeah, they would humiliate him, but the long game… it wasn't their style. The Dursleys didn't have the brains or the resources to play a long prank on anyone, and in any case, while it would humiliate him in the long run, they preferred less elaborate methods.

He continued reading the letter, the part which had pissed him off.

_Regarding young Harry's living arrangements….I am pleased that the plan for the Dursleys to toughen him up by verbally and physically abusing and neglecting him is going according to plan. While Harry is not related to the Dursleys in any way, given how Lily was adopted by the Evans family, I had enough blood stored from Lily to make the blood protection scheme work, while at the same time Harry's own magic is tied into the wards. _

_Yes, I am more than aware of how unpleasant the Dursleys are; I have placed spells on them to augment their natural hatred of magic, and I have made Harry the outlet of their fear for the unknown. _

_It is for the Greater Good young Harry is forced to accept hardships of life in order to make the ultimate sacrifice for the Light. It will be great experience for him until he comes to Hogwarts. I know it is tragic, but these sacrifices have to be made. _

_Please continue to monitor the situation according to plan._

_Yours Faithfully, _

_Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore. _

There was a list of titles that Harry didn't understand but he ignored them in favour of trying hard to control his temper, and while he did that he willed himself to think rationally about what he had learnt. Someone had deliberately placed him with the Dursleys, someone who had wanted him to be abused. Harry reread the letter again, going back to the part that mentioned someone called Lord Voldemort.

Weird name, but whoever this Voldemort was, they were clearly someone whom Harry did not want to know, especially if he was someone who committed mass murder against these muggle-borns and squibs, whoever they were.

Harry shook his head. Like with the pictures, he decided to push that aside until he knew enough to understand it. It was likely to happen much later in the future. In the meantime, he decided to just reason everything out. This Dumbledore, he reasoned, had placed him with the Dursleys - it surprised him a great deal he wasn't even related to Petunia (he had never considered the woman an aunt before, regardless of whatever she had said to him, but the bitch had gotten her wish - they weren't related, but what surprised him was that someone was using his magic -magic - to protect them) - having him abused both mentally and physically.

But what else did he have in mind? There must be more. Dumbledore had written that until he (Harry) went to this Hogwarts place (what was Hogwarts?)

He also wanted him to make the ultimate sacrifice after being abused, but if the bastard thought he was going to lay down his life for a bunch of cowards who got their kicks sending kids to abusive homes, well this Dumbledore geezer was going to have his neck snapped in the most painful way possible.

After reading through the letter a few times but not finding any more meaning, Harry went through the other letters inside the drawer to see what else he could learn. He wanted to find out more about this Dumbledore and his motivations, but he wanted to learn more about this Voldemort. As for the letters…. There was a whole stack of them, and as he checked them he saw that they went back in time years.

"He's had me watched all this time," Harry whispered, scanning one letter after another. They didn't explain much about the magical world, except that he would be entering it when he was eleven years old. If he had been hoping for the letters to give some more hints about Voldemort, or what Dumbledore wanted to use him for, Harry was in for a disappointment. Dumbledore's letters were extremely vague about the long term goals, he just kept talking about sacrifices that needed to made for a greater good, but he didn't write anything more than that. But then Harry didn't need to really imagine what the wizard had in mind.

He wanted Harry to die for a cause. He didn't care if Harry was happy or downtrodden, it seemed more likely he wanted Harry to be downtrodden so then he'd likely look up at Dumbledore and do what he wanted. As he flicked through the letters before he finally finished reading the last one in the collection Mrs Figg had kept there for god knew what reason, Harry guessed the old wizard was a few cells short of a brain. Dumbledore kept talking crap about how he, Harry, was going to save them all from Voldemort, making unfounded predictions of his personality and his future, saying he would be _good, generous, kind, and forgiving. _

Harry snorted. "Yeah, right, you old bastard. I'll forgive you after I've finished murdering your friends."

There were quite a few references to something called "the Order," but there was nothing substantial about them since it was obviously some kind of group Dumbledore headed up and Figg was a part of, and what would be the point of Dumbledore mentioning anything about his group with another member?

What he didn't like reading about was the blood ward things that were supposed to be protecting him from harm while the Dursleys were meant to keep him weak, and in Dumbledore's own words - he wrote it half a dozen times in different letters - the weaker he was the more malleable he was.

Harry put the letters away, deciding he wasn't going to get anything more out of them, and he just sat and thought quietly for a moment while he went over everything he had just heard.

This Voldemort, he was clearly a dangerous and powerful wizard who had murdered Harry's own parents. Dumbledore had then left him with the Dursleys and placed him under a protection scheme while knowing full well Petunia was not even related to her so-called nephew although thanks to the blood coming from his mother he would still be alive while living in that house. Harry thought the whole thing almost too elaborate, not only did Dumbledore leave him there did to make sure he was looked after but was beaten until he was malleable for Dumbledore's purposes. As he thought about it, Harry guessed Dumbledore wanted him to look at the older wizard as a hero for getting him away from the Dursleys.

Yeah, right.

Dumbledore wanted him in Hogwarts, and during that time it was logical, especially when he considered the ultimate sacrifice thing, to believe Dumbledore would push him through one mess after another. As for this ultimate sacrifice…

Harry took in a deep breath. It was obvious what that meant. He wanted Harry to sacrifice himself to kill this Voldemort. Child soldiers….The whole concept not only sickened Harry, it angered him because it meant adults were too fucking cowardly to do their own dirty work.

Now he was left trying to work out what he was going to do about the problem. He didn't know anything about Dumbledore or Voldemort, except they were undoubtedly powerful, but he would make them regret coming after him. He should be entering the magical world in a few years, and Dumbledore would probably expect him to be a proper little hero, a goody-goody who worshipped him.

The Dursleys were a part of the scheme. Their job was to beat him and make him malleable to the point where he would willingly trust anyone who helped him, but Harry had no intention of following the scheme. He hated the thought of being part of a plan which would see him die.

Harry had no intention of dying or being part of some insane plan to see him killed off. He leaned back thoughtfully, thinking about his plans. He saw no reason not to leave the Dursleys like he had planned out previously, but now a part of him was wondering if it was a good idea after all.

While the Dursleys were scum and were abusive mentally and physically towards him, Harry knew where he stood with them, and he could handle them.

This Dumbledore, well he was different. How could he know more about the man from reading a few letters? He only knew the Dursleys because he had lived with them for a long time. Dumbledore was someone whom he didn't know, and Harry wondered what would happen when the pair of them met.

The more he thought about it, Harry guessed this wizard would be subtle and would likely gain his trust. In any case, Harry had read small tidbits about how Dumbledore insinuated that he'd become Harry's mentor.

"Not likely," Harry growled under his breath, knowing that sort of trust meant Dumbledore would come to have an intimate knowledge of his younger victim. "But what do I do? I could escape the Dursleys easily, but would that tip my hand? Hold it a second. Is Dumbledore the reason why I sometimes have that voice in my head, saying to me the Dursleys are my family, that I should stay with them? It looks like it, it also hints the lengths the old bastard is willing to go through to keep me in this part of the world. What are my options if I do try to escape the Dursleys? I could escape into London, become a burglar freely without having to hide. I could do whatever I want, and at the same time I could pick up other skills that will prove to be useful to me in the future. In any case, it would be better to learn new skills rather than mentally rot in this dump all the time. If I escape the Dursleys, would Dumbledore realise I know about the magical world already even if I can't get there? Would he know where I am? That's a nasty thought. Wait," he whispered when he considered something important, "I do know _someone _who knows how to get into the Wizarding World, and they're currently asleep downstairs."

Harry left the room after putting the letters away - he planned to come back soon at some point later, and go through the letters again - and he went downstairs. Mrs Figg was still asleep while her cats milled around her.

Harry waved them aside. He waved his hand around the woman, mentally willing the woman to wake up. As soon as she was asleep, Harry concentrated all of his powers of hypnotism on the woman. "Look into my eyes," Harry ordered, pushing more of his power, his magic, into the command.

Unable to resist, Mrs Figg looked into Harry's eyes and she quickly found herself lost under the spell.

"Are you a witch?" Harry asked.

"No, I am a squib; a child born into a magical family, but is not capable of magic."

Harry frowned, wondering how that happened for a moment. He was curious about the magical world, but after a second of further thought, he dismissed it uncaringly. "Why are you here?"

"I was given the task of watching over Harry Potter until he was ready to enter the Wizarding World. I am to report any instances of magical activity and to report any instances in case Harry Potter goes missing."

_Goes missing…_

A thought popped into Harry's mind. "And has Harry Potter gone missing?" he asked, wondering momentarily why he was speaking about himself in the third person before he dismissed it; the woman was under his spell, and she was just repeating her orders.

"Yes."

"And what happened?" Harry asked, tightly holding onto his growing fear.

"Each time Harry would be taken back to his relatives, the Dursleys. He would have his memory removed, and compulsion charms were placed on him to keep him at the Dursleys."

Hearing that was enough to confirm his worst fears concerning Dumbledore, and it made Harry wonder if there was any way he could escape the Dursleys after all.

"Why does Dumbledore want Harry Potter to remain at the Dursleys?" he asked, wanting a personal answer and not something written down in a letter.

"Harry Potter was prophesied to be the one who would rid the world of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. On the night his parents were killed by the Dark Lord, Harry Potter was marked by the evil wizard. He has a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead; many people have speculated about the scar, but Albus Dumbledore claims the scar is actually a Horcrux."

"A what?" Harry whispered, his mind reeling as he took in the dimensions of the web of intrigue around him.

"A piece of the soul, created by a dark ritual designed to create immortality. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot die if all of the Horcruxes he has created are intact."

"I see," Harry began to see Dumbledore's plans for this ultimate sacrifice. He wanted Harry to willingly lay down his life and die, taking the Dark Lord with him. The thought gave him a new question. "What is Dumbledore's long term plan to deal with the Horcruxes, and what does he plan to do with Harry Potter?"

"Dumbledore plans on sending Rubeus Hagrid, his trusted henchman although the stupid half-giant doesn't see it like that, to pick Harry up and take him to get his school supplies. At the same time, Dumbledore wants Hagrid to collect a dangerous magical artefact to wet Harry's interest, and have Hagrid warn him about Slytherin."

"Slytherin, what is that?"

"Hogwarts is divided into four houses. Slytherin is considered to be the darkest house, as it is the home of many former Death Eaters."

Harry thought about the explanation for a moment, wondering to himself if there was more to the reason than what he had expected. He decided to think and worry about it later, he had an interrogation to get through. He took a glance at the clock nearby, and he realised this could take longer than he had expected. "What else does Dumbledore plan to do?"

"Dumbledore plans on Harry being watched by the Weasley family, they are one of his staunchest followers. At the same time, the boy will be dosed up on potions to make him more malleable to Dumbledore's point of view. At the same time, he would be kept to a certain level of magical knowledge so he doesn't learn too much, so he cannot slip his leash. Dumbledore and the Weasley family will keep Harry away from the goblins of Gringotts as they have the legal and financial power to help him. As the years pass, Harry will be pushed into one dangerous situation after another, while the rest of the student body turns on him regularly in order to make him take the forgiving view in the long term, and make him accept his fate."

Only the fact the woman was in a hypnotic trance prevented Harry from breaking her neck, especially when she added the leash bit. It made him sound like a pet, or a poor monkey being tormented by an organ grinder. He had to remind himself she was just another lackey of the old wizard.

"Why is Dumbledore doing this? Why can't he just remove the Horcrux?"

"He can't. He says it is impossible to remove a Horcrux," Mrs Figg replied in a matter of fact manner. "The only way to deal with them is to destroy the container."

_Can't or won't? _Harry thought to himself, considering his next questions. "Why was Harry Potter left with the Dursleys if he was not related to them, and what is the protection?"

"Dumbledore handed the mudblood Lily Potter a book on blood magic, knowing she would read it. Lily used the blood magic protections as they were strong enough to prevent He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from killing Harry Potter. The blood magic was strong to prevent the killing curse from killing Harry Potter, and it left protection on the boy. Dumbledore had already collected some of the mudblood's blood-."

"Wait, what does mudblood mean?" Harry asked.

"It is slang against muggle-born wizards and witches; many witches and wizards believe muggleborns are inferior since they do not have magical ancestry," Mrs Figg replied.

"And muggleborns come from the non-magical world, I assume?"

"Correct."

_I can guess how you feel about non-magical people, you old bitch. In any case, you can talk; you can't even do magic. In fact, if it weren't for your cats, I would murder you right now for what you have done to me! _Harry thought to himself while aloud he said, "Carry on, you were saying Dumbledore had collected Lily's blood. What did he do with it to protect Harry Potter, and where do the Dursleys come into it?"

"Dumbledore placed a blood ward over the boy. He purposefully left the boy with his supposed muggle relatives with the hopes their treatment of him would make him malleable," Figg replied.

"Who else knows of this plan?"

"Dumbledore, and the senior members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"What is the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked.

"It is an organisation founded by Albus Dumbledore when he was fighting covertly against the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Dumbledore kept the organisation going when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named began his war."

"Who are the senior members?"

"Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall. Remus Lupin. Alastor Moody. Daedalus Diggle. Molly and Arthur Weasley. Sturgis Podmore."

Harry had gone off and he had grabbed a piece of paper and he wrote down the names, and a warning never to trust them ever. "Why do you refer to Voldemort as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" he asked, while he made sure the hypnotic spell was still strong.

Mrs Figg's face was still expressionless, and her voice could have come from a puppet for all the emotion it showed. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cast a taboo curse over the magical world," she explained. "Every time someone spoke his name, he would personally attack or send his followers. The speaker's death was long, drawn-out, and terrifying."

_Ah, that explains it, then, _Harry thought to himself, mentally picturing a cloaked wizard murdering someone just for saying their name. He thought about what he had just learnt. He had so many more questions, but he knew he could find out the answers later, one of them was what the Order got out of his death, but he could ask that in a bit. Right now he had more questions on his mind.

"How do muggleborns enter the magical world?"

"Through the Leaky Cauldron pub in Central London," Mrs Figg said.

Harry held out the piece of paper. "Take this paper," he ordered. "Write down the exact place and address of the pub, and how to get in."

Mrs Figg wrote it down and Harry took the paper from her before he stuffed it in his pocket.

"Do the Order of the Phoenix agree with this plan?" he asked.

"Yes," Mrs Figg replied.

Harry wondered for a moment if that was completely true. Maybe some of the Order agreed with it amongst themselves, but what about when they were in private? Unfortunately, he knew Mrs Figg could not tell him. He had another question in mind, and he wanted this one asked. It was the golden question to his problems.

"How does Dumbledore know if Harry Potter is at Number 4 or not?"

"Dumbledore has spells on him to monitor it. Harry is weaved into the wards. As long as he sees the place as home, he would be protected. Dumbledore also has spells on him to monitor if he is there or not. At the same time, he has a spell on the house to monitor the interior of the house to ensure Harry Potter's safety, although only when the Dursleys beat him too severely."

Harry supposed that made sense although he was momentarily scared by what he had just learnt; if Dumbledore figured he was a burglar with knowledge of his magic, no matter how rudimentary if he wanted to keep him to a certain level… "So, all Harry Potter has to do is to just say if he doesn't see the house as home or not, and the spells would be broken, yes?"

"That is correct," Mrs Figg replied, unaware of the revolutionary idea he had in mind.

Harry thought about everything he had heard. He came to a decision. "Mrs Figg, look into my eyes," he said, focusing his power of hypnosis on the woman again.

Mrs Figg looked into his eyes.

"You will not remember anything. You will go to sleep. When the Dursleys knock on the door, you will wake up immediately and you will not report any problems to the Dursleys," he said. "Also, you will carry on with your assignment given to you by Dumbledore, do you understand? You will have no further memory of this meeting. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Good," Harry leaned back in his seat. "Now go to sleep."

Mrs Figg went back to sleep. Harry looked down at her for a moment, and then he stood up and went back upstairs. He had to reread the letters, and quickly. Harry had to rethink his plans, and fast. His mind went over everything he had just heard, and he recalled Figg's talk about the goblins. He would have to find a way to speak to them.


	7. Chapter 7 Gringotts and Gore

I don't own Harry Potter, so I just make do with Fanfiction.

I am so sorry it's taken so long to update, but I've got a novel to write and other stories to focus on as well, but I do plan on getting to them quickly. Anyway, I hope you are all okay, and I hope things go back to normal soon.

Please let me know what you think.

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Harry Potter: The Spider-Man Burglar.

Harry came slowly out of the cupboard under the stairs, grimacing as he bent his back as he left the damn hole. Suddenly he heard a laugh, and he felt a large hand shove him back inside.

"Get out of the way, Potter!" he heard Dudley laugh while he was thrown backwards by the force of the shove into the wall, and he groaned with pain as his back hit the wall. All the time, he could hear Dudley and his stupid laugh.

_Damn it, Dudley!_ Harry thought to himself angrily as he pushed the residual pain aside and pulled himself back out of the cupboard. _Don't you have anything better to do with your life than play the same stupid game time and again!? _

Then again, why was he so surprised?

He had come to the realisation Dudley would never change; with how his parents babied and spoilt him rotten, allowing him to get away with so much, and eat so much food in one hour that a family suffering from starvation in Africa could live on for a week, maybe two, until he was so morbidly obese, only a miracle would force Dudley, his not cousin, to change.

But what annoyed Harry the most was while many of the other kids at school close to his age were gradually pushing aside their previous childish attitudes, Dudley and co remained at the mental age of six or five. Harry pushed the annoyance away as he came out of the cupboard, and he went into the kitchen. He was unsurprised when Vernon took one look at him and barked his usual 'good morning' greeting. "Comb your hair, Boy! I won't have a hooligan like you smearing our good name."

Harry lifted an eyebrow, his expression showing his contempt for the Dursleys and everything about them. He wondered if Vernon even _realised_ just how much he could not _care less_ about their precious family name. Rumours of his thefts had circulated around the neighbourhood a long time ago, they weren't going to go away just because his hair was messy. But then again the Dursleys were so finite in their perception of the world. They saw things in black and white, although they were never able to see beyond the edge of their stupid car.

_It's funny_, he reflected to himself privately, _now I know we're not related, I find I couldn't care less if your disgusting, filthy, muggle family rots under the ground. _

He just ignored the fat pig and walked to the stove to see to the breakfast without being told, and as he got to work on the cooking he felt rather than saw Petunia leaning over him. "Just cook the breakfast, but don't burn anything, boy!" she hissed in his ear.

Harry wanted to take the burning hot pan and slap it in her face, instead, he took a long moment to relax and focus on the task at hand. It looked like this was just going to be one of those mornings where he would have nothing but the Dursleys in his face. As he cooked, a part of him was tempted to burn the food and use his magic to put these animals in the place they needed to put in, and he would keep them there forever. But he decided against it. He needed to keep his emotions clear today for the unscheduled (for the goblins) appointment with Gringotts.

When he was sitting down at the table while he kept watch on Dudley who was eyeing his food with those piggy eyes of his, Harry slowly ate his meagre meal, wincing at the amount of oil and fat on the plate. Ever since he had read up on healthy living, he had come to realise just how unhealthy the Dursleys were although he'd already had some idea since there was no way any responsible parent would give their child so much food, both fatty and laden down with enough sugars to give an elephant a heart attack, it had become yet another pressing reason for Harry to get away from the Dursleys.

When he was gone, he would have to find his own food. Only he would never eat the way these _things_ did.

"Get ready for school, Boy!" Vernon ordered when he was finished. "We don't want another incident, do we?"

As far as Harry was concerned, an act of theft at this point would look tame if one of the plans he had come up with to finally rid himself of this family and get them out of his life for good came true.

"Sorry to tell you, but I'm not going today. Look into my eyes!" Harry stared at the Dursleys, pushing his magic into his command, probably more than he would normally have done.

Very quickly the Dursleys fell under the spell.

It never failed to amuse or amaze Harry in equal measure how easy it was for the Dursleys to fall under hypnosis; for a family who was loud, arrogant, and vindictive, they were terribly weak-minded. However, thinking about the mental shortcomings of the Dursleys reminded Harry of how his own memory had been tampered with. He wanted those memories back. He wanted to know and remember precisely what Dumbledore had done to him, forcing him to remain here with the Dursleys.

That's better, Harry thought to himself while he took a moment to admire the Dursleys quiet and still rather than staring at him with greed, hatred, or disgust. It didn't take long for Harry to remind himself he needed the Dursleys to be completely under his spell rather than admired at the moment since now they were quiet and docile.

"I will not be going to school today," he said. "Aunt Petunia," he paused for a second while he mentally winced at the title he had given to the bitter old bitch who wasn't even related to him, but he pushed that aside, "today you will contact the school, tell them I have come down with a 24-hour virus, and I will need plenty of rest. But I will be there tomorrow. Vernon, Dudley, the pair of you will avoid me today when I get back. You both think I have the 24-hour bug, and as a result, you are treating me like I don't exist. Other than that the pair of you will carry on with the day as you normally do. Vernon, you will give me thirty quid, believing that you had loaned it to Petunia, although you have told her that you don't need it back. Vernon, get your wallet out now and obey the command."

Vernon silently withdrew his wallet and counted out the money before he placed it quietly near Harry, who took it and stuffed it in his pocket after checking it was the right amount.

Harry stood up. "You will all remain in your trance for the time being. I am going to get ready to leave. When I close the door loudly, the three of you will follow your instructions. You will not speak about the 24-hour bug with anyone. You will carry out your daily business as normal. Do not speak about me to anyone."

With the final instruction implanted in their minds, Harry was about to leave and get ready to get out of the house and head for London where he would be meeting with the goblins so he could finalise his long-term plans, and hopefully choose the direction he wanted those same plans to take, but for a moment he watched the Dursleys. It was so funny and incongruous watching them just sitting helplessly like this, sitting like dolls in a giant dolls house, unresponsive and unmoving.

It was tempting, he needed to admit, to just leave them like this, under his spell while a part of their minds was likely beating inside their skulls, screaming to be let free. It reminded him a great deal about how he had been treated himself as a child forced to serve the Dursleys after his parents had been murdered by that bastard Voldemort and he'd been imprisoned here by Dumbledore who wanted him dead for his own reasons, but now he knew the Dursleys were just puppets in real life although they were too stupid to see it for themselves, he realised he wanted them to suffer the way he had.

Did he care much if that made him a bad person?

God no.

Harry walked out of the kitchen made his final preparations before he walked out of the house and he headed for the train station. Once he got to the station, he paid for his ticket and he went down to the platform to wait for the train. He only needed to wait for twenty minutes before the train arrived, which gave him the time he needed to think about how the meeting with the goblins would go.

He had questioned Mrs Figg about them, and how he should deal with them.

According to the old hag, the goblins were not the friendliest of magical beings, but Harry had noted just how prejudiced the woman was even under hypnosis when she spoke about the goblins. What was even more surprising for Harry was the goblins were the ones who handled the banking for the magical world, but it looked like so many didn't like that fact.

Harry had no idea what he was going to expect from the goblins. Would they alert Dumbledore to his visiting them? Or would they help him?

He would just have to wait and see.

XXX

Sometime later while he stood outside the Leaky Cauldron (he had guessed already the magical world had placed spells on the grotty looking old pub to hide it from the non-magical world; he'd been standing out here for a while now, and he hadn't noticed anyone even walking into the pub), Harry was just savouring the moment.

For the first time in a long time, he was going to enter the magical world, but he didn't know what he was going to find when he went in.

Mrs Figg might have given him a great deal of information under hypnosis, but as he stood outside the pub dressed in a dark coat which covered his school clothes since he had known the people in the street would have been spying on him, he realised that he didn't know as much of the magical world as he'd have liked.

Harry closed his eyes. So much depended on the meeting today, even though the goblins did not know he was coming. He didn't know anything about them, he had no idea if they would help him and give him what he wanted in the long term. But at the same time, he wanted to know what would happen if he planned to get rid of the Dursleys and make his own way into the world without their so-called protection. At the same time, he wanted to know what could be done about the Horcrux in his head.

Ideally, he would have the thing removed and if possible destroyed, but because he had no idea what would happen if he went with the option if it existed, Harry didn't know what choice he had.

He shook his head and he stepped cautiously ahead, knowing in the next hour or so - he had no idea just how long he was going to be here - his entire future was going to be decided.

He blinked when he stepped into the pub, stunned by how dingy and grubby the place was. The conditions inside the pub and the general dress of everyone inside - were they wizards and witches? If so, it was hard to believe; fantasy fiction and movies made sorcerers out to be clean, healthy people at the best of times - made Harry feel like he had just stepped back in time a century.

Harry pushed that aside - he would have time to explore the magical world in a bit while finding out for himself if they were all just lazy about their appearances - and he approached the bar counter. "Excuse me," he said clearly to the man there. "Look into my eyes."

The bar man's eyes glazed over as Harry's magic hypnotised him.

"I am trying to get into Diagon Alley. You will help me, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," the man replied.

"Good. Now, when I click my fingers you will return to normal. You will get an employee to come over and take over the bar, and you will show me how to get into Diagon Alley. Understood?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good." Harry clicked his fingers, and the barman returned to normal. He blinked for a minute while his mind snapped back into place, and he turned and looked down where he saw Harry. A big friendly smile spread across his face.

"Of course I'll help you get into Diagon Alley, lad!" he said in a friendly voice before he turned to a woman wearing a tall, slightly tatty witch's hat. "Hey, Vanessa, mind taking over for a minute while I take this lad out the back?"

"You don't normally do that, Tom," the woman argued.

"Yeah, well, I wanna do it," Tom argued back, the hypnotic spell's strength shining through.

"Okay, okay," the woman held up her hands in surrender, and she took over from Tom, who led Harry out of the back. Harry looked around, surprised to find himself in a tiny backyard surrounded by a square brick wall. This was the entrance to a magical world? He found it hard to believe, but he had begun to realise not everything was as it seemed a long time ago.

Tom tapped a certain wall at certain points with his wand. Harry had him show him the pattern again to help him memorise it, but the barman soon left while the bricks formed the portal into Diagon Alley.

For a moment Harry looked out into the magical shopping district, feeling like with the pub he'd stepped back in time a hundred years. The feel of the shopping district itself gave it an ancient, albeit timeless feel. Harry stepped through the portal and walked through the street, passing a number of shops while he noted each and every single one of them and what they held. He was tempted to go into each of them, see what they held and if they had anything that could help him in the long run, but he decided against it, although he did give the bookshop a longing stare.

He was mystified slightly when he passed a shop and saw it was selling owls, of all things, but he would learn more about it later when he had finished with the goblins.

It didn't take long for him to find this Gringotts. It was easily the most recognisable place in the Alley, and it dominated a large chunk of the space and it was a pure white building which looked like not a speck of muck had touched it. The real kicker was the goblin guards standing at the entrance. Harry studied the guards for a moment, noticing their armour and their weapons. Their armour appeared to be a miniaturised, scaled-down cross between a medieval knight, a Roman legionnaire, and a Japanese Samurai, but while the armour looked strong it looked slightly out of place on such a diminutive being. But one look into the hard eyes of the goblin told Harry this goblin was more than prepared for a fight if provoked, and he and his buddies had the means of backing it up.

The goblin Harry was studying was holding a very large battle axe, but one look at the razor-sharp blade persuaded Harry the goblins were not to be crossed. Harry stepped through into the bank, hoping the goblins were trustworthy and wouldn't betray him to Dumbledore. However, as he walked through the doors, he saw the ominous warning to thieves.

XXX

Once he was over the threshold of the bank, Harry looked around for a free goblin whom he could speak to. It was almost impossible given there were lines of people waiting to be dealt with by the goblin bankers. Harry sighed. He had hoped to avoid this, but it looked like it couldn't be helped. He walked around the bank, looking for a free banker. Finally, after a while he spotted a formerly closed desk being opened by a goblin, and he hurried over to the counter before the goblin could announce he was free.

The goblin looked down his nose at the small human. "What do you want?"

"My name is Harry Potter. I need to speak to my account manager immediately please," Harry answered holding back his reaction to the way the goblin had spoken to him, which was unprofessional, to say the least.

The goblin looked torn for a second, and Harry was surprised by the different emotions he could see playing on the goblins' face. "Excuse me, one moment," he said before he tapped something in front of him, and then spoke in a snarling, guttural language. The interesting thing was the goblin was having a conversation with another goblin, who answered back in the same language. Harry didn't know what the goblin was saying to one of his colleagues, or even what was going to happen next, so he decided the best thing for him to do was to wait.

According to his watch, the conversation between the two goblins lasted for two minutes. When it was over the goblin sitting behind the desk stared at Harry.

"If you will wait a moment, Mr Potter," he said, "one of my colleagues will escort you to the Potter family Account Manager."

Harry inclined his head, noting the way the goblin banker had just stressed his surname. "Thank you," he said, noticing at once the goblin's expression shift. Was the goblin surprised by something he'd said? Another mystery to add to the pile. He had noticed that about the goblin he had been speaking to. The goblin seemed surprised by him, but Harry wondered why, but he guessed he could find out in a while from now.

Another goblin appeared. Like the other goblins, this one was wearing a pin-striped suit that looked immaculate. They were clearly dressing either to impress or to show themselves as a very magical people who took pride in themselves. The new goblin sent a look towards Harry, said a few things in the language of the goblins to the one who had been dealing with Harry, and he seemed satisfied with the answer his colleague said in reply before he approached Harry.

"This way, Mr Potter," the goblin said, putting the same stress on Harry's surname which made Harry begin to suspect the goblins had been encountering people who had tried to break into his account or claim it for some reason or another. Harry followed the goblin willingly, deciding to face whatever the goblins had in mind.

The goblin led him down a series of corridors, but what worried Harry the most was the way the goblin he was following had gestured to a few of the armoured goblins out in the main hall to follow, and despite Harry's best efforts not to look at them he couldn't help but catch the expression in one of the armoured goblins.

He seemed to have a hungry, longing look every time he looked at Harry. The burglar couldn't help but liken the goblin's expression to a hungry shark staring at a very fat whale. Finally, he was led into an office and ushered him into a seat before taking his own chair, but it was impossible for Harry to get comfortable with the armoured goblins around him. He looked around the office to take in his surroundings to put his mind off of them.

The office was twice the size of the living room at Privet Drive, vaguely circular. The walls themselves appeared to be hewn out of the rock, lining them were numerous bookshelves laden with tomes bound in dark coloured leather.

Harry turned his attention back to the desk, noting its dark red coloured appearance. The colour reminded him of blood, but what really took his attention was the rack of weapons that looked like they'd been hauled out of a Tolkien story. Only these looked more vicious, somehow; the battle axe was enormous, probably large enough to slice the front of Vernon's car into two with just one hit. The light glimmered on the weapon. Clearly, the goblins wanted it to be that way, highlighting the dark stained on the honed razor-sharp edge. Blood. Harry realised they were here as a warning against any who tried to cause trouble with the goblins. Once he was sitting opposite the goblin who'd led them here, Harry took a good look. The goblin, he realised now especially since they were sitting on eye level, appeared much older than the goblin outside although Harry wasn't sure just how old the goblin was. But what took Harry by surprise was the smile which showed the small, sharp-pointed teeth in the goblin's mouth. Harry was beginning to get worried about the goblins, who seemed to be treating him as a rabbit they were playing with.

The goblin broke eye contact and brought something out of his desk drawer. It was a sheet of blood-red parchment. The goblin opened it up and took out a particularly sharp-looking dagger.

"Cut your finger and place the blood on the parchment," the goblin in front of him ordered. Harry took the knife after being prodded into doing it by one of the armoured goblins near him, realising he had little choice but to cooperate. The goblins were armed, which gave them a great deal of persuasion, and he didn't have any weapons of his own and he wasn't sure if his own powers, which were more than enough to deal with non-magical people would even work on the goblins.

Holding the dagger and preparing himself against the sting, Harry cut his index finger without flinching and held it out over the paper, squeezing the finger between his thumb and his middle finger, letting some of his blood fall on the parchment. The moment the blood droplets fell on the paper, it glowed red.

He saw his name appear on the top of the paper, followed by the name of his parents, followed by more information but he was unable to read it…

"It appears you really are Harry Potter," the old goblin commented, making Harry raise his eyebrows again. He had already gotten the impression someone else had been trying to get into his account, although he wasn't sure why, but he was going to find out.

The old goblin, meanwhile, lifted his eyes and turned to the armoured goblins. "Leave us; I'll call you back if you are needed."

Harry kept still as the goblins bowed and left the office, but he noticed one or two seemed a bit disappointed.

"You appear to be the right one, this time. I have been waiting for you to arrive for a long time, although I hadn't expected you to arrive until your eleventh birthday since Dumbledore promised you would come then," the old goblin said, sneering Dumbledore's name disdainfully.

"This time? I've been noting some of you seemed sceptical of my identity. Are you saying wizards have been trying to get you to let them plunder my bank account?" Harry asked.

The old goblin sighed. "Mr Potter, when I received word you were in the bank, I organised that squad of guards to accompany you. I admit I was surprised; while Dumbledore promised you would be arriving on your eleventh birthday, many people have tried to lay claim to your family funds for reasons I cannot understand, although I speculate it's due to your fame, and they want to claim it as theirs while saying they're going to look after it or some stupid thing like that. Don't ask me what goes through the minds of wizards, Mr Potter; I don't understand the logic they use. Even some of the Ministry of Magic have tried to do it while claiming they plan on turning you into a ward, although if they had their way then you wouldn't even see a single coin."

Harry nodded, hiding his anger some of the people in the magical world had tried to steal what money he had in Gringotts, including the Ministry of Magic. He was curious about what would possess people to do that, especially if he had supposedly driven off the evilest wizard of all time. Okay, he knew fame drew people to those who had it in abundance, making them do things which defied all common sense, but to actually try to steal from him on that level…Harry might be a thief himself, but there were things which went too far. He wondered if those same wizards just wanted a piece of the action or some insane thing like that.

But the Ministry of Magic…

Harry guessed, if they were like the politicians Vernon liked the rant about, they wanted to look good for the masses, and if they happened to make a profit on the side….great. Harry decided to wait and see about what the Ministry did in the future, although right now he hadn't gotten a good impression of them.

Still, at least he had solved the mystery of why the goblins seemed belligerent towards him. Harry was insulted by their lack of intelligence and subtlety; he would have thought the Ministry would have come up with something less obvious as a ploy to steal his family fortune, but it appeared they were incapable of coming up with anything other than blunderbuss tactics that intelligent people who looked at problems with a fine-tooth comb would be able to solve, and he wasn't sure if this was typical of the magical world or not, but if it was then he was very very worried about his own future.

If these people were as stupid as he was beginning to suspect, then it was looking more likely he would need to find alternatives to living in this country and attending Hogwarts.

"What did Dumbledore say about me?" Harry asked, deciding to get down to business.

The old goblin grimaced. "He claimed you would be returning to the magical world at the age of eleven, but at the same time," and here the goblin's voice darkened with annoyance, "I was annoyed and concerned when you didn't reply to your mail."

"What mail? I haven't received any mail from anyone, and I didn't even know I was a wizard until recently," Harry replied, knowing that he was technically telling the truth. He might have been curious about his powers, and he might have come up with a number of wild guesses of what they were all about, but the magic hadn't been one of them.

The old goblin reared back in shock. And then he began hissing with anger. "The old fool! Are you serious? You haven't received any mail?"

"No," Harry clenched his fists, mentally adding another point against Dumbledore. It was bad enough the wizard had shoved him in an abusive home with people who hated him but weren't even related to him in the first place, and that was before he had learnt the old bastard planned to have him sacrifice his own life to end Voldemort.

Speaking of which…

Harry studied the goblin closely. He wasn't sure if he could trust the goblins, but his dislike for Dumbledore seemed genuine. In any case, there was no harm in trying, especially since he was desperate to get rid of the Horcrux in his scar, the Horcrux which seemed to be an important part of Dumbledore's sick schemes.

"I have received no letters from the magical world," he repeated. "I only found out about the magical world recently when I went to someone who was babysitting me. She's one of Dumbledore's lackeys, she basically told me of a plot by Dumbledore and his little group, the Order of the Phoenix, to use me to sacrifice my life against Lord Voldemort."

The goblin hissed and shook his head in what Harry took to be wonder. "And wizards claim they're better than us," he whispered, "we may be warriors, but we do not sacrifice our young!"

Harry took a deep breath. He didn't know how the goblin would react, but he quickly decided he needed to lay down the groundwork. "I don't know if it's better or worse; Voldemort created something called Horcruxes."

"WHAT?" the goblin snarled, taking Harry by surprise. "He created those abominations!? Does he not realise the danger he's put himself in? Oh, of course not, since when do wizards ever learn anything!?"

Harry was taken by surprise by the goblins outburst, but what amazed him the most was despite how rhetorically the goblin insulted human wizards intelligence, there was genuine horror and disbelief laced in. "I see you're not a fan of Horcruxes, then?" he asked in an almost casual manner, but he couldn't see any other way of voicing his question. In any case, it was bait for a better explanation and for options on how they could handle this.

"We hate them," the goblin replied while he struggled to calm down from his angry, disbelieving rant. "They are abominations. The people who created them believed tearing the soul to shreds was the key to immortality, but they didn't realise when they did that the soul pieces didn't grant eternal life. In Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Pharaohs who wished to live forever gave up on using them altogether simply for that reason, but also if they stupidly misplaced one of their soul fragments and it fell into the hands of an enemy, then they could gain access to the magic of the caster. Horcruxes don't just split the soul, Mr Potter, they split magic as well.

"With a soul fragment, you could drain the other wizard's magic. The enemies of the Pharaohs discovered this trait of the method and used the soul fragments as a weapon which drained their enemies of their magic and therefore their lives. The Ancient Egyptians were not the only ones to develop this vile type of magic, there were other wizards who studied and developed them. Many magical beings - goblins, elves, for instance, see them as abominations because of how much damage they can cause to the soul.

"Our Curse Breakers discover these things everywhere. Each one is trained to detect them and to drain them and to make sure they do not try to sell them, we lace a desire to ensure they are destroyed into our magical contracts with them, so they see them as abominations. We did this only because some of the Curse Breakers in the past sold them off without recognising the dangers, or they foolishly used them themselves as models for immortality as well, but only because they didn't have the full facts. Many countries with magical communities have banned the existence of the texts which contain details of the Horcruxes, except to those who study ancient magical arts to stop the spread of people who split their souls, foolish but it is a logical belief that without the information on hand, no-one would know, therefore it will never happen.

"However, it's not foolproof, and this is just another example," the goblin finished, leaning back in his chair, seemingly lost in thought for a moment while Harry watched on, wondering what the goblin would say next.

Finally, after a moment, the goblin began speaking again. "Why would Dumbledore sacrifice you if the Dark Lord Voldemort created Horcruxes?"

Harry didn't know how to respond so he hesitated for a second, but then he decided to get it out and over with. If he didn't have the goblin's aid, then there was a chance of Dumbledore's sick plan working after all. "I'll answer that in a moment, but first you said a moment ago the enemies of the Pharaohs found a way of draining the magic of the soul pieces, is it dangerous?"

"Not at all," the goblin replied, giving Harry a suspicious look. "Why do you ask?'

"How are the soul pieces stored? I mean, are they deposited in another person or in an object?"

"They're usually placed in an object. Many valuable treasures have been lost as a result because many people have placed soul pieces in items like diamond necklaces, vases dating thousands of years, and their belief the only way to destroy the Horcrux is to destroy the container. That's probably the solution Dumbledore has in mind; the draining method is more elegant and efficient, as it not only destroys all the Horcruxes at once without even touching them physically when you've got access to just one, but it also drains the magic of the wizard or witch in the process, but it's not as well known," the goblin replied patiently while he stared at Harry suspiciously. "Why?"

Harry hesitated. He had no idea how the goblin was going to take this, and he hoped the goblin didn't just lop off his head when he came out with the truth. "Dumbledore plans on using me as a sacrificial martyr for his cause because he has determined that my scar contains one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

The goblin gaped at him in disbelief. His mouth even moved, mouthing the name Dumbledore, the word scar, and lastly Horcrux.

"He believes you have a Horcrux in your scar, but instead of finding someone more knowledgeable than himself, he decides to take the matter into his own, inexperienced hands?"

"Sounds like it. And he plans to subject me to more abuse at Hogwarts, pushing me to become a selfless saviour," Harry sneered the words, almost reassured the goblins weren't going to kill him for having the Horcrux in his scar, intriguing the goblin instantly, "and lastly making me sacrifice my own life without any thought on the matter."

The goblin was fascinated by the boy now. He had been dealing with Potters for a long time, and while some members had frustrated him - James Potter most of all, with the humans' lack of common sense - it was clear Harry was a completely different person. "You don't like your fame," he commented shortly in an attempt to get a better idea of the boy's character.

"I haven't known the magical world long enough to know how it feels, but even with the limited experience I have, I don't like it. I don't like the fact my parents were killed, and I was put on a pedestal for something I don't even remember doing, never mind something I couldn't personally have done. You see," Harry trailed off thoughtfully for a moment before he returned to the conversation after weighing the pros and cons about what he was about to reveal to the goblin before deciding the goblin didn't seem to have any liking for Dumbledore, "Dumbledore had me placed with my mother's adoptive sister, who hates magic along with her thug of a husband. He wanted to use them to beat me down so I would see Dumbledore as a hero and a mentor, all the time I would be groomed to sacrifice my own life to take Voldemort out."

The goblin shook his head, amazed by the strategy of the wizards and not in a good way.

"You don't seem to like wizards much," Harry commented.

"We don't. Many of them look down on us, and many of them have hunted and hounded my people down in the centuries past, but they quickly realised their mistake when we began hunting them down more viciously than they had with us. It was as though they had ignored or forgotten the fact we are sentient and are capable of thinking strategically. But what made it insane was their belief in blood purity made them feel they were immune to our justice. They quickly discovered they were wrong when we devised excruciating methods of killing them," the goblin smirked, and Harry couldn't help but compare the smile to that of a hungry shark, and he decided there and then not to cross the goblins, "but the ridiculous thing is while wizards and witches are incapable of just leaving the muggles alone as we can, they expend great resources in hiding themselves when their original hobbies of hunting muggles and causing them problems led to so many witches and wizards dying. This is another example of wizard stupidity."

"I'm starting to wonder if being a wizard is a good thing or not, after hearing all that," Harry said after a moment, wondering if being a human wizard meant his brain would begin to rot soon enough. "But is there a way of getting rid of the Horcrux in my scar?"

The goblin nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, there is. It's a simple ritual, however, it will take a few days to set it up."

Harry only just masked his disappointment, but he still sat there in his chair while he thought about what he had just been told. The time for the ritual to take place was all wrong, but he was relieved that the Horcrux could be removed. However, he was still at a loss about what he should be doing about the Dursleys, Voldemort, and Dumbledore and his little band. He was tempted to kill the lot of them, including the Dursleys for what they'd done.

But another part of him questioned whether or not it was even worth it. They weren't his relatives, they were just a bigoted bunch who got power over beating him. Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were definitely people whom he would truly like to see pay the price, and so was Voldemort, but the Dursleys weren't even in the big league as far as they were concerned. But he needed to get away from them, regardless of whether or not Dumbledore discovered it or not. The old wizard despite some of his questionable choices was far from stupid; he had known about and had encouraged the abuse; he knew there was a chance his little martyr to be would try to escape. He had taken steps to prevent it, and they had worked so far. Now he would need to find a way to get out of that house. When he was on the streets, he could find other burglars and thieves, specialists in different fields and learn from them, make it big before he attended Hogwarts.

But he would need to get away from Little Whinging. It was a limited place, and while there were dozens of houses and shops available, Harry wanted to broaden his horizons. He wanted and needed to learn new skills in order to develop his own repertoire and broaden it out. He couldn't do that in Little Whinging. However, as he sat there in his chair, Harry realised he had only two ways around this problem.

First, he either killed the Dursleys and went on his way. Secondly, he just left without saying a word. With both options, he would go into London and move on with his burglaries, and with some luck, he could even meet other burglars who'd teach him new tricks. Also, he might also be able to join burglary gangs or just the one, make new contacts, develop new skills, and combine those skills with his own magical ability.

"Mr Potter? Mr Potter, are you alright?" The goblin asked.

Harry looked at the goblin account manager for a moment, surprised; then he realised that he must have been silent for some time. "I was just thinking through my options," he confessed, noting the goblin account manager giving him a probing look before he smirked that shark-like grin.

"You mean you are unsure if you should murder the Dursley family?" The goblin let out a harsh laugh when Harry gaped at him in surprise. "Don't look surprised; wizards have the power to look into people's minds if they're undefended, why should they be the only ones capable of looking into others' minds? We don't do it often, we just do it to make sure nobody is lying to us."

"Then why did you need to perform that blood test when the teller out there could have read my mind and saw I was telling the truth?" Harry asked, holding back his worries.

The goblin held out his hands. "The teller did, but wizards know of a mental art known as occlumency; a particularly strong occlumens can prevent anyone reading their mind, but in your case when you were brought to me, I wanted to see if you were telling the truth."

Harry wasn't sure about that, but he knew now his mind was vulnerable. He would need to research this occlumency as soon as he could, and be ready for any attempt to read his mind.

The thought of others reading his mind like it was an open book annoyed him, and worried him at the same time.

Ever since he had found out he could hypnotise people, Harry wondered if he was unique. It was…disconcerting to find there were others who could do what he could, only their skill was more refined.

He had every intention of rectifying that issue.

The goblin smiled. He had been the account manager for the Potter family for a long time, and while James Potter had been infuriating - a sure symbol of Charlus & Dorea Potters' age - and not very bright, he could tell for himself Harry Potter was a mix between Charlus, Dorea, and Lily Potter; Charles had been a powerful wizard, but he had been a cunning one as well, more insightful than James had been, who had just seemed content to sit back and let everything in life drift towards him. Dorea, however, was a byproduct of her family, the Blacks. She had been dark, lethal and dangerous. Lily, however, had brought a new dimension to the family.

She had been a muggle-born, but she was vastly intelligent and he had seen she was not happy with many of Dumbledore's policies during the war. He hadn't known her for long, but he had known whenever she discovered something, she would follow it through until she had a good understanding of it. It was obvious her son had inherited that aspect of his mother's nature.

Although he wasn't sure if he should tell the boy that Lily Potter had been a thief herself. Oh, she wasn't a serious one, although she had committed a few acts of pickpocketing as a child; to prove she could do it, and then later she had broken into a house when she was a fourteen and later a fifteen-year-old girl.

Her son was a thief himself, a burglar. The goblin had seen inside his mind, seen that the differences between himself and his mother were very very different. Harry Potter had become a burglar out of necessity, he had been pushed into that life if he hadn't then he would have starved because of those filthy muggle animals. He had started off small, but he had gained an enjoyment for it. Now it was a part of his life.

The goblin could see Harry's inner struggle over what to do about the muggles. "Do you mind if I give you some advice, Mr Potter?" At the boy's nod, the account manager continued. "My people are a warrior race, we do not forgive those who harm us."

"Are you saying I should kill them?" Harry caught on quickly.

The goblin account manager levelled Harry with a truly serious look. "Take it from me, if you leave them unharmed then Dumbledore will almost certainly send you back to them. And there is also something important you need to realise; while the Dursleys are not your blood family, the wards over you did prevent dangerous wizards from capturing and killing you. The Horcrux in your scar needs to be drained and the Dark Lord and his followers need to be drained of their magic now. Horcruxes are abominations of magic, one we must always destroy without fail. That is how urgent this matter is."

Harry had gotten the impression from the goblins they didn't really care much about wizards, but he could tell from the body language of the account manager, he was serious about the Horcrux. "What will happen when the Horcrux is drained and Voldemort and his followers are gone? What will Dumbledore do then, will he try to manipulate me?"

The account manager shrugged. "Answering in reverse, I am not sure; many of Dumbledore's plans hinge on your death fighting the Dark Lord, and so there is the potential chance he will forget his plans now there's no real need. However, Dumbledore is not renowned for backing down, and he also has a quest for personal power and respect. He wants to be famous and he wants to be powerful, and while he got what he wanted, he knows it is not enough. He might decide to manipulate a situation involving you."

"Oh, brilliant," Harry rolled his eyes as he tried to think of a way he could avoid any of the old wizard's plans.

"And for your last question…. The Dark Lord caused a tremendous amount of death and destruction, Mr Potter. The draining of the Horcruxes will wipe them out. For good."

Suddenly Harry thought he had the answer. "You want them gone for practical reasons."

"We do," the account manager nodded in confirmation. "The Horcruxes are an abomination. They must be destroyed."

Something occurred to Harry. "Will you tell the magical world what Voldemort did?"

"Why do you ask?" The goblin asked curiously, however, Harry heard an edge in the goblin account manager's tone. He was on his guard.

"So many witches and wizards losing their magic suddenly? It's going to attract attention. What will the magical world, on the whole, say and do? Will you get involved and tell them what happened, how Voldemort created Horcruxes?" Harry asked curiously. "I don't really care what you say or do, I would just like to have a good idea."

"Ordinarily, we would prefer to keep things silent, Mr Potter. Our history with wizards has been far from amicable; many of them believe we have near-human intelligence," the account manager's expression reminded Harry of the contempt he himself felt for many in Little Whinging, although he could tell it was much more than that, more serious, "however, unfortunately, we have to abide by treaties with the Ministry, even if they see us beneath them. We have to inform them of any witch or wizard who was stupid enough to try anything; we have final authority on the punishment of any of them if they try to commit fraud or commit theft in Gringotts. We don't want the publicity in those cases, however, it is done. Whenever we prosecute someone for fraud or theft, we usually execute them after informing the Ministry. They would then order a story to be published in the Daily Prophet, the most common magical newspaper in Britain; the Ministry also has the newspaper reprint a very long list of those who have crossed us since the treaties which established Gringotts was set up. They believe by doing this, others searching for a means of immortality will be deterred. Unfortunately, it sometimes leads to many wizards who refuse to think through their actions - a consequence of Dumbledore, who has a ridiculous second chance policy at Hogwarts where bullies are not punished which makes the bullies believe they are untouchable - trying to harm us. Maybe the Director and the Royal Council will authorise a statement giving a controlled account of what happened to the Death Eaters when they lose their magic, but they would likely edit it. I'm not sure."

"You're worried the Ministry might cause problems if that does happen?" Harry asked.

"In a way. Horcruxes carry with them a fatal flaw; if they allow immortality, why aren't there undead witches and wizards running around? The truth is wizards never truly think. Even if we tell the wizarding world the hard truth of these abominations, many will just ignore it."

XXX

The door to the Cupboard Under the Stairs opened up slowly with a creak, while Harry poked his head out. He relaxed when he realised no-one was awake, but he was still tense. There were butterflies in his stomach, and he was worried about what would happen. Harry closed his eyes and he stepped out of the Cupboard. After leaning back in and taking out all of his possessions including his haul, Harry went to the kitchen and took out a kitchen knife which was really sharp and large enough to do what he wanted.

Harry held the knife awkwardly as he went upstairs. With each step he took, he heard the sound of Vernon snoring his head off while next to him, Petunia was sleeping as peacefully as she could. It was a mystery to Harry how his 'aunt' was able to sleep through this cacophony. Well, it wouldn't be for much longer.

Harry took a deep breath, and he studied the two sleeping Dursleys while he wondered how he was going to do this. He quickly discounted using the knife to just stab them both in the heart. He didn't know just how much strength he would need to do that, but he guessed it would be more than he could physically muster. Harry decided to just slit their throats, he had no idea if it would be quiet or if the Dursleys would wake up, but it was simpler than just stabbing them both.

He closed his eyes and braced himself before he pressed the razor-sharp edge against Vernon's throat. He hesitated for a moment, unsure about how he should handle murdering another living being… and then he remembered everything this man had done, how he had been paid to abuse him, the time where he'd poured boiling hot water over his legs, all those beatings…. He gritted his teeth together, and using his anger to further drive the knife into the thick, jowly skin, Harry slashed Vernon Dursley's throat.

Vernon choked and gurgled, blood spurting out of the wound and he opened and closed his mouth like a fish struggling to breathe on dry land before he finally died.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. He had…. Just murdered someone in cold blood, and as he stared at one of the biggest tormentors in his life, he felt different about himself. After a moment he regained his resolve and he moved over to Petunia….

Harry looked out of the open front door, looking out over the peaceful street, curious about how the neighbours, the police, and mostly the wizards under Dumbledore's command would take the brutal murders which had taken place tonight before he turned away from the sight, leaving the front door open. In the morning the postman, the milkman, or a neighbour would discover the door open and would investigate before they found the dead bodies of Dudley, Vernon and Petunia Dursley. He straightened his black coat as he passed the open door to the cupboard. The open door itself would attract some attention, and hopefully, everyone would realise the type of people the Dursleys had been, but otherwise, he didn't really care since he would be a long way from here.

Harry walked into the kitchen, and he picked up his possessions - much of it was the cash he'd gotten from the burglaries, but he'd taken everything - before he walked out of the kitchen door and went to the garden gate. Once he was out of the alleyway, Harry walked hurriedly through the alley to the main street before he walked slowly to the railway station. After he had gone to the automatic ticket machine and selected a single into London, Harry walked to the platform and checked the train time. The Dursleys always went to sleep at around ten o clock, so he had plenty of time for a train to take him into London.

Harry had to wait on the platform for seven minutes before the train appeared. As the brakes screeched bringing the train to a halt, Harry said slowly and clearly before the doors opened. He had been waiting for a long time for this ever since he had discovered the truth from the hypnotised Figg, and he had paid the goblins an extra fee on top of the fee he'd paid for the removal and disposal of the Horcrux in his head, to remove the spells Dumbledore had placed on his body.

The spells which he had used to keep Harry locked up in Number 4 Privet Drive. The compulsion charms which the goblins had identified as the ones which had told him not to leave, and to see the Dursleys as his family and Number 4 as home, the tracking charms the old wizard had used to make sure he was still at Number 4, and which he had used to track him down whenever he had escaped. Harry had decided to have the goblins remove the memory blocks at the same time as the Horcrux procedure, so when he left he would have full recall over everything Dumbledore had done to him.

The goblins had removed them all.

He was now free.

Harry had no idea what Dumbledore would do when he learnt the truth of what happened to his plans with the death of the Dursleys, and Harry was curious about what the ancient wizard would come up with next.

"Number 4 Privet Drive is not my home," Harry whispered quietly.

XXX

Albus Dumbledore woke up as soon as he felt the Blood Wards and the spells connecting Harry Potter to the Dursleys collapse. The old wizard had connected the status of the wards to his own person, so he was aware of anything which went wrong. Dumbledore had originally been content with the wards being connected to the dozen puffing instruments visitors found in his office. No-one knew what they were, believing they were just inventions or gimmicks of Dumbledore's own design.

Dumbledore let them have their beliefs, he knew if they ever discovered what he had done to the boy then there would be a lot of trouble and while he had a lot of political clout there were many who would like to see him disappear. However, as time had passed and he had been called away to attend ICW meetings and conferences, he had returned only to discover Potter had escaped the Dursleys. Deep down Dumbledore was impressed by Harry's attitude of trying again and again to succeed, but he couldn't have it.

The boy needed to remain at Number 4 for the plan to work. He needed to be abused so he would arrive malleable, meek, and willing to do whatever Dumbledore told him rather than arrive spoilt, wilful, and too strong to listen, and therefore would not be the willing, unthinking martyr who would weaken Voldemort enough to allow Dumbledore to kill him and gain even more political power for the Great Good of the magical world.

After several attempts at this, Dumbledore had finally had enough and he had woven himself into the ward scheme so he would know if something had gone wrong. He hadn't connected himself all the way into the wards, just enough to let him know if something was wrong.

The moment he realised what had happened, he immediately leapt out of bed and ran to the main office so he could check the status. The sight that met his eyes when he reached his office made the fly open in horror.

The instruments had stopped. None of them was puffing anymore. Dumbledore clenched his fists as he examined each of them, his temper growing as he examined each one in turn before he finally exploded. "That little brat has escaped!" He thundered, waking up Fawkes who let out a screech of protest for the sudden noise, but Dumbledore ignored the songbird. "He's collapsed the wards! Now I don't know where he is! My plans have been ruined!"

The Sorting Hat said nothing from his own perch. Somehow he had the feeling all of Dumbledore's plans would unravel, and he wasn't very sympathetic towards the wizard who had proven himself to be more arrogant than most.

XXX

Two days later Harry smiled as he looked around Trafalgar Square while Nelson's column loomed over him while he read a very interesting newspaper article which described the murder of the Dursleys. The article was quite large, considering the content of murder and child abuse. According to the newspaper, the Dursleys had been found dead when a neighbour was getting into his car and noted the open doorway before going in. Five minutes later, he'd run out screaming his head off about murder. The police were investigating the murder, but they didn't have any answers about how the killer had gotten in. Harry didn't believe that he knew the police had a few ideas of their own.

What the police had done was release information about how the Dursleys had had a second child in their home. A child who'd apparently been living the life of a slave, who had been beaten by them more than once. The article went into a lot of detail about the findings there, of the cupboard being used as a bedroom by the child, with old, tatty sheets and blanket long since covered with blood and other things.

Harry noted that there wasn't a great deal of information about the second child, namely himself. However, the paper did name names, so everyone knew the child was called Harry Potter, but beyond that and the fact he was abused by the Dursleys and was now missing while they were dead, the article was a little suggestive as to what happened to the Dursleys.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and threw the newspaper away before he walked into the darkness of the city of London. He felt as if he had just been liberated and a door had just been opened, and he'd walked through and closed it behind him.

He had no idea what the future held, but right now he would return to Gringotts and have the goblins remove the Horcrux, and then he would be truly free. In the meantime, he would learn how to survive in his new world.


	8. Chapter 8 The Start of a New Life

**I don't own Harry Potter. Please let me know what you think. **

* * *

Harry Potter: The Spider-Man Burglar.

As soon as he walked through the lobby, Harry's keen eyes swept the bank floor, and he saw nobody was looking at him, but then he noticed one man wearing voluminous robes who was talking to a teller, so his attention wasn't on Harry. However he recognised the man at once, he was the same weirdo who'd excitedly shaken his hand in public and had earned him a nasty beating at the hands of Vernon Dursley. But right now the man's attention was focused solely on the goblin in front of him, not on his surroundings.

Nowhere near, but Harry noticed him instantly as soon he recognised the face; his mother's vault had contained diaries, and in one of them there was a worn photograph full of moving people who had been with his parents. The goblins had given him names while the diaries and his own deductive skill had told him he was looking at a photograph of the Order of the Phoenix.

The man's name was Dedalus Diggle, and he was one of the members of the Order who was going to 'inherit' the cash from the Potter family. While making sure the little man didn't notice him, Harry couldn't help but grin in delight as he walked through the Leaky Cauldron and back out into the street while his hood was up, feeling freer than he had done his whole life; he had never realised until now just how _oppressive _the Horcrux had been when it had taken up residence in his head, but now it was gone he felt different.

For a start, while he was pleased the Dursleys were gone and they would never hurt him again ever, a large part of Harry was now sickened by what he had done even if it had been vital to getting rid of the Dursleys so he could make it out into London. Now he was experiencing the feeling, Harry knew now a large portion of his desire and his lack of hesitation for the murder of the Dursleys had come from Voldemort's soul fragment itself.

But at the same time…

A part of Harry wondered if he would do the same again if his life depended on it. Only time would tell, it always did. But then again there were many things he would like to do, such as getting a nice home which was a priority given he was now homeless and he was now living off of the streets even if the money he had taken from the goblins which came from the myriad of muggle-born parents who didn't realise the magical world their kids were now a part of didn't have a decent exchange rate and instead massively taxed the magical families to allow muggleborns into the magical world which only caused more disgust and distaste for muggleborns, but all the goblins were left with was a large ton of paper notes and coins they didn't even need and was usually burnt although they kept a large supply just in case, then he had turned up and he had offered a suggestion for the goblins to give him a large amount so they didn't need to. The goblins had been more than delighted by the solution and at that moment they had referred to him as a goblin friend and a lengthy explanation of what that entailed.

In the meantime, he had a lot more to do now he was freed from the effects of the Horcrux. After the procedure, he had felt more powerful than he had done in his entire life, but that was to be expected, really; the goblins had explained to him the Horcrux had been leeching off of his own magic to stay alive after all these years, and it wasn't helped Dumbledore had placed dozens of blocks on his own magic until even the goblin healers were amazed he was even able to function, never mind be able to use his magic to the level he had.

Harry didn't even know if he was still able to crawl on walls, never mind be able to hypnotise others, but he wasn't worried about that just now. Thanks to the goblins, he had been able to gain access to his mother's own vault - his family vault wouldn't be open to him until he was in his late teens, and somebody else had access to the vault key to his own allowance vault, which had annoyed the goblins, but they had already begun the plans to make a new key if he couldn't get it back. But it didn't matter - there was more than enough cash in his mother's vault, and since she was dead and he was the only member of her family left, grisly as it sounded, he had more than enough money.

The goblins owed him a favour anyway. During his visit to Gringotts, Harry had learnt the goblins regularly became frustrated by the amount of muggle money they were forced to take from the muggle-born students who came into the magical world with parents who'd accepted their child's gifts, although Harry had a sneaking and sinking feeling that many of them were like the Dursleys in attitude and mind. The piles of coins and notes were useless to the goblins and the wizards never really touched it, unless of course, they left the magical world, which was rare in itself. So the goblins were left with piles and piles of useless paper and coins they simply did not have the contacts in the muggle world with to get back the gold they needed to exchange it with.

It was then Harry had offered a solution when he realised they normally burnt it. He offered to buy it off them for a few galleons, and since there was a lot of money in his allowance and in his mother's vault, there was more than enough there to buy the paper notes. A few galleons was a lot better for them, and since it cost them their work, the goblins jumped at the chance to get rid of one of their biggest headaches. As thanks, they had allowed him a brief look into his family vault on top of getting into his mother's vault, where he discovered that his mother had owned a flat of her own, and it was this flat she and Harry's father had used as a home shortly before they had moved into the house where they had met their end.

Harry had the keys to the flat in his pocket and the documents which proved it belonged to him - Lily had arranged it all nicely in case anything had happened to her and James, and he was left on his own, and he needed a home.

"Thanks, mum," he whispered to himself as he kept his head down and left the Alley before he walked through the Leaky Cauldron and back out into the muggle world. Today had been a good day, not only did he have a home now, he had a book the goblins claimed was his family grimoire which contained a vast treasure trove of magical knowledge, which was one of the biggest reasons why he had bought it in the first place. After he had been deprived of knowledge about his heritage, his family for years, Harry planned on catching up on what he should know.

According to the goblins, Charlus Potter, his grandfather, had feared for the Potter family's history and future and knowledge, and he had known of the danger posed to all the Potters out there since Voldemort had a major grudge and had proven himself in Charlus' eyes as being nothing more than a genocidal monster who murdered everyone around him for his own sick, twisted delight, who murdered pureblooded witches and wizards, the same people whom he claimed to be the saviour of with nothing more than the stupid excuse of them being 'blood traitors' he had stored the grimoire into the Potter family vault, where nobody but a Potter could get in.

So, not only did Harry now have the grimoire and the keys to a new flat which would become his home, he had a sizeable amount of cash ready to be put into a bank account - the goblins had given him the means to open it with the aid of something called a rune cluster, which would allow him to appear as an adult so he could enrol himself into a school or open a bank account.

And, perhaps, a few other possibilities… Harry closed that thought down as quickly as it formed; one step at a time. For the moment he wanted to move in, see his new flat, and establish himself in the city before he began committing new crimes. As he walked out of the grotty looking pub which he knew his relatives - former relatives, he corrected himself - would have sniffed disapprovingly at simply because it was grubby, Harry thought about the wealth of possibility opened up to him now.

XXX

In his office at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore was going mad. It had been two days since Harry Potter had escaped, and the Dursleys were murdered; Albus had gone in to investigate the scene himself, although he had needed to do so while the muggles continued to investigate the killings while he magically scanned the scene; he had gotten there as quickly as he'd needed to, and he had discovered there wasn't any magical residue on the knife used to murder the Dursleys, but there was no clue to who had murdered them, or even where Harry had gone. All the blood magic trackers had failed and collapsed as soon as he'd left and the Dursleys had died. Even worse, the muggle Aurors had found the Cupboard under the Stairs; Albus had known about the conditions the boy had been forced in, but it was for the greater good if the long term gains were worthwhile. In any case, the boy would soon die as soon as he defeated Voldemort, and died with the Dark Lord. It was inevitable, especially since there was no way the boy could survive the backlash when the Horcrux in his skull was destroyed.

The only practical thing Dumbledore could do was wait instead of ordering the few members of his Order whom he could trust to finding the boy and understood the ways of the muggles in order to find clues of where the boy was. In a few years, the boy would receive his Hogwarts letter, and when that happened, he would finally know where the brat was, and then he'd be in a position to taking full control of his life again.

But at the same time, Albus wondered if he was too late and the Horcrux in Harry's scar had influenced him to the point where he would willingly murder the Dursleys, although he knew even without the soul fragment in his scar, it would have been tempting for anyone to commit murder, but all he had at the moment was nothing more than conjecture. Not proof, but when he found out for sure….

Albus sighed and he mentally prepared himself to engage the contingency plans he had in place should Harry Potter turn Dark; he hadn't wanted to use them, although his plans to manipulate Lucius Malfoy into releasing the Horcrux trapped inside Tom's diary which he'd found out about once he had sent a house-elf to Malfoy Manor which had been dangerous enough as it was, with a talisman designed to detect Horcruxes also included an opportunity to make Harry out to be the Heir of Slytherin, but make him appear to be eviler than he actually intended.

But, since he needed Harry to find the Philosopher's Stone to test his ability to see things other students could not, then the diary released on the school would provide him with the chance to see how far he'd stray to the Dark…

XXX

Harry walked around the flat and couldn't help but mentally praise his mother for her choice and her taste. The flat was on the river, so it had a decent location, which was one of the reasons why she'd bought the place. While he didn't know too much about the neighbourhood, that wasn't a problem in the long-term so long as he was quick; if there was one thing being in Little Whinging and enduring the pointless chases from Dudley Dursley had taught him, it was to always know your surroundings and have a decent route of escape.

For the time being, he would settle down and try to find a decent school he could apply for, preferably one where he wouldn't need to grit his teeth and wish the whole place wouldn't burn to the ground like his previous two schools which had begun long before that buck-toothed little bitch had revealed he was stealing from everyone. Harry had decided already he wasn't going to use the name Potter, but rather he was going to go with Evans instead, so the police wouldn't find him.

However, as he thought about that little bitch, Harry wondered where she was, and he hoped she wasn't going to be anywhere near the school he applied for, and that included that bitch of a teacher who'd judged him simply because she'd listened to the lies of Petunia Dursley.

He shrugged his shoulders while he pulled off the dust sheets somebody, most likely his parents, had used to cover the furniture in his new flat, and dumping them down in a corner while he waved his hands as the clouds of dust blew off into his face. Hurrying over to the balcony, he threw open the doors and stepped out and leaned against the rail.

"Forget the school," he muttered to himself, "I need to clean this place up a bit."

Going back inside the flat, Harry discovered the cleaning products were long since out of date, so he bagged them up ready to throw them out with the rubbish. Taking the money from the goblins, he left the flat and went to the shops, mentally making a map of the streets as he did, before he reached a nearby supermarket. As he got close, he took a look at his clothes, and he shook his head; he would need to change his wardrobe instead of looking like a scruff. Great, something more to add to the list of things he needed to do…

With practiced ease, Harry walked around the supermarket and gathered everything he felt he would need; he gathered simple cornflakes, fruit which consisted of apples, bananas, pears, plums, and grapes, milk, ham, bread, meat, some clean mugs, toilet and kitchen rolls, some pens and a notebook to write his priority of ideas, soap and toothpaste, and some toothbrushes, dishcloths, sponges, cleaning materials, mop and bucket and some disinfectant, hoover bags (he'd found one at the flat, so he didn't need to worry there), some rubber gloves, bin bags. He spotted the pizzas on display, and he wondered what they tasted like since he had never had one before in his life. Opting to buy a simple pepperoni pizza for his dinner tonight, Harry grabbed hold of a pizza tray to go with it and some greaseproof paper. It was a simple collection of stuff and there wasn't a great deal of it, but he could always come back for more later. Once he got to the checkout, the woman at the till eyed him speculatively, making him sigh in irritation under his breath.

"A lot of stuff, here," she said in an attempt to make some conversation and get some idea of who the boy was and why he was alone.

Harry wondered if he should hypnotise her but he decided against it. "You could say that," he said without giving too much away.

The woman smiled at him invitingly. It didn't really work. Harry knew many people used honeyed words to ensnare others, and he didn't want to become trapped despite his lack of experience there. "Shopping alone?"

"Yes."

"Oh, how come?"

Intrigued by the woman who seemed as much as a gossipmonger as his late aunt, although she seemed more subtle, Harry decided to tell her the truth. "My parents are dead. I'm just buying these," Harry's voice became ice-cold, hoping it would make the woman drop it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman actually placed a hand to her mouth, but Harry wasn't touched by her intrusive manner. He ignored her later attempts at conversation, and he left the supermarket, weighed down by his purchases.

When Harry returned to his flat, he instantly got to work. He scrubbed the floors and the tops, dusting down the surfaces and counters, before deep cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen before he finally stopped. Taking a bath while he put the pizza into the oven, Harry decided to focus on his immediate plans for the future. Now he had a place to live, Harry needed to establish himself here. He needed to find out if there was a school here, and he would need to con his way inside. That was no problem thanks to the goblins, but there were so many other things he needed to sort through for himself.

Figg told him Dumbledore wanted him to be wretched, meek, shy, all the more perfect for his masterplan, but Harry had no intention of arriving at Hogwarts with that kind of facade. He had several ideas of what he could appear as when he turned up at the school for the first time, but he had a few years to go before he needed to decide on it. For the meantime, Harry would just focus on his life and he would continue to practice what magic he had available to him now. He had to make contacts, find fences and other criminals to learn from, develop and hone his skills as a burglar, and he hoped to find some martial artist dojos to learn how to properly defend himself. The last thing Harry wanted was to find himself in the same kind of hopeless position he had found himself in more than once at the hands of the Dursleys and not being strong enough to fight of Dudley. Another thing was he didn't want to keep depending on his powers to protect himself, and while he had little faith a punch would be enough to stop Dumbledore meddling in his life, it was better to have that skill than not to have it.

Between eating his pizza and watching TV, Harry slowly wrote down the list of things he would need to do.

Find a decent school, something better than the ones he'd had in the past.

Study the local area.

Enter into martial arts

See if there were abandoned houses and warehouses nearby where he could practice his spider crawling powers.

Commit burglaries.

Find other thieves to learn and practice from, and also find fences.

Number 6 on the list was likely going to be the hardest since burglars were hard to find, but even if he couldn't find them, Harry knew he was smart enough and imaginative enough to learn quickly and form his own style which was better than the one he'd used in Little Whinging.

XXX

Five months later.

The punch took Harry by surprise, and he staggered back into the gaggle of school kids who cheered on the fighters, one of which was him. Harry glared at his opponent, Andrew Mercer, a weasel-like kid who had quickly decided to bully Harry for reasons the smaller boy had never really understood. Sometimes Harry had the feeling he had a bullseye painted on his back, with all the bullies who ganged upon him.

While he was half laying on the crowd, Harry had a moment to think, to let his mind wander.

He had been in this school for four months now, after spending a month familiarising himself with his new neighbourhood, although he spent a great deal of his own time trying to find his way around, finding a warehouse where he had discovered he had far greater control and skill with the wall-crawling power he had discovered although he hadn't yet begun to commit any crimes yet. But he had found a martial arts dojo, and he found it quite good it was ninjutsu after the ninja fighting arts, although his research into them yielded a more serious, more different side to the ninjas when compared to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and despite being a newbie, Harry was putting a lot of effort into studying the martial art while at the same time he was looking out to develop expertise in something else further down the line.

When he arrived, no-one knowing anything about his past since no-one knew Harry Evans, except he was being brought up by his 'father,' who was Harry in disguise, but Harry doubted very much Mercer and others like him cared one little bit about that aspect about himself. No, he had the feeling they were just bullies who picked on anyone whom they just didn't like.

Mercer had been the only major drawback to this new London school; Harry had mostly kept himself to himself, although now Dudley wasn't around to cause him any problems to stop him having friends, that old conditioning remained. But despite trying to keep himself mostly undercover, Harry had reached out a little bit, tentatively. He had a couple of close friends, but nothing major while he didn't try to push the boundaries since he knew his lack of social experience meant he didn't know what a faux pas was when it came to friendship.

But Mercer didn't care about pushing boundaries. Harry's faith in authority figures had never been strong during his time in Little Whinging and they were not strong now since the teachers at this damn school didn't do much to Mercer; every time he was punished for bullying someone, he kept going back and causing more pain. Again and again.

Harry hadn't bothered to tell the teachers what the dickhead was doing because their punishments were worthless, in any case, he knew Mercer was a lot like the other bullies he had known when he'd been in Little Whinging. Unfortunately, his pseudo friends didn't think the same way, and they'd told the teachers, and Mercer clearly believed he (Harry) had tattled.

"You think you're funny, don't you, freak?" Mercer panted; the punching had winded him for some reason, but he realised the other boy was not only unathletic, but he was also not good at punching. But when he heard what Mercer had just said, Harry bit his lip in anger as he heard what the other boy had just called him.

Freak.

Was that the best Mercer could do?

It didn't matter, really. Harry prepared himself for the rest of the fight, pushing his emotions and locking them behind his occlumency barriers which he had been putting up for the last few months since he had gotten hold of his family's grimoire, and he went through his nascent knowledge of ninjutsu.

Mercer growled and sprang forward, preparing to snatch Harry and pull him forwards. But Harry sidestepped the other boy and he punched Mercer hard in the chest before shifting his body into a combat stance, while he brought his leg up, and kicked him in the stomach while pushing all of his magic into the blow.

Mercer let out a pained gasp or a cry, somewhere in between, and he collapsed to the ground. But Harry wasn't finished. He bent down and he punched the guy in the eye. Mercer cried out a gurgling cry of pain.

Harry slapped the boy in the face as he leaned down. "Okay, you sack of shit," he hissed, sounding like an angry snake. "If you ever bother anyone in this school again, not just me, I will bring my baseball bat into this school, and when I am finished with you… well, I hear sucking food out through a straw ain't pretty."

Message delivered, Harry stood up and walked away while the crowd parted.


End file.
